The Resurgence of Excellence
by Da-chan.does.fics
Summary: After 8 months of the working under the greatest chefs in their finest restaurants, a homesick Yukihira Souma decides to pay a visit back to Japan, to give Totsuki one last dance, and one last chance to polish the generation of jewels, before they blast off into the big wide culinary world. Souma is back, and he isn't keen on losing to anyone this time around. [Sorina pairing]
1. Chapter 1

The Resurgence of Excellence

Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: I own neither SnS nor the cover image. I also own no considerable amount of money and/or possessions. Don't sue me, pretty please?_

* * *

It was another pleasant Saturday at the Nakiri Manor. The normally elegantly silent garden was more animated than usual, given the current situation. Seven people in total were seated around a large round table covered in the finest Mulberry silk in an angelic white color. There was no tent or roofing of any kind, as the alluring pines and the cool spring breeze provided enough comfort for the denizens of the table.

The vast estate gave off a feeling of freedom, with perfectly kept gardens and beautiful fountains as far off as the eye can see.

It really was the epitome of luxury—until it was interrupted by a dull groan.

The source, Asahi Saiba, stretched his arms as he complained, "Uuggh, I'm hungry! And why is Erina not here yet?"

"Be patient Asahi, you know how your sister is when she dresses," reprimanded his newly-discovered father, Azami Nakiri.

The only non-Nakiri member of the table, Joichiro Saiba, did not miss this chance to poke fun at his kouhai, "Hoooh, doing pretty good there, Nakamura. Nice going!"

"Yeah, you're at least trying to be a half-decent father now." Azami's brother-in-law, Soe, added.

At that, Azami's wife, Mana, squinted at him and said, "Uh-huh. I still haven't completely forgiven you though, Azami. You've got quite a lot of fixing to do, promiscuous lecher."

"No, that was before we met…" Azami was interrupted by an even sharper glare in his direction.

"… Ah, no. I understand, Mana."

Having sensed that the conversation was getting into dangerous territory, and having seen his granddaughter headed to the table, Senzaemon decided to cut in, "Eh-hmm. Well, let's not be too talkative as I believe our most awaited headmistress has arrived."

"Ey! Good morning, imouto!" Asahi greeted.

Erina then proceeded to greet back, "Ah. Good morning, nii-san. Good morning, everyone. And nii-san, may I request you to sit properly?"

"Haii. Haiii."

"I apologize for the delay—Saiba-sama?!" Erina was surprised when she noticed the familiar redhead sitting by the table.

"He's here as our guest today, Erina. Don't you remember?" clarified Azami.

"Yeah, Erina-chan, I believe it was you who invited him first." Erina's aunt, Leonora, added.

"Yeah, I know that, aunt and… dad. I'm just wondering why Saiba-sama's here when he's been scheduled to cook for us today?" Erina asked, bewildered.

Joichiro leaned back on his chair and answered, "You see, Erina-chan, I was supposed to cook. However, someone suddenly became alive again, and you know, we had this bet, and he won.

"The bet this time was rights to cook for the Nakiri family. And don't worry, Mana and Senzaemon judged and participated in the testing. She'll be able to eat with us today."

At that, Asahi was confused. "Beat you? Who exactly would beat you, Joichiro-san, well, other than me?"

Joichiro squinted at the silly question, and decided to retort with sass, "Why, a guy that beat you, of course, Asahi. And he didn't beat me, well, at least not yet. It was a draw, but the condition was him just not losing, so he won the bet."

And at that, the whole table, except for the three who knew of this beforehand, froze up, especially one short-haired blonde headmistress. There was an atmosphere of apprehension, mystery, and excitement even as the servants came in with a roller filled with the dishes.

The table was clearly tensed in anticipation as the butlers and maids delivered the dishes and cutlery to the table.

"By any chance, Saiba-sama, is that person—"

"Eyyy, wait, wait. The food's here already! Why don't we dig in first before we resume this conversation? I'm starving." Joichiro said, clearly amused at the tense moods of the Nakiris around him.

Erina did not touch her food yet as she was deep in thought._ But… is that fool, is that idiot finally back? And since when?! He never even sent me one e-mail! And the paperwork! Does he even know how many times I contemplated on just declaring him a drop-out?!_

_I swear, if it is him, I'm going to get my payback, tenfold. I'm going to make him do all the piled up paperwork, take all his missed tests, and make-up for not letting me taste some food for 8 months! 8, freaking, months!_

… _Wait, that last one—_

"Erina. Just try it for now, maybe then you'll know for sure." Senzaemon remarked with a smirk.

"… Yes, grandfather." Erina, with one last glance at her mother, who seemed to not be adversely affected by the dish, decided to comply and taste it herself.

**Boom!**

.

.

.

And in that moment, Erina was filled with a desire for paperwork-related revenge.

* * *

It was another cold, windy, and quiet night. Nights which have started to sadly become more and more common at the Polar Star Dorm as the now third years were becoming increasingly busy. It didn't help that the newbies were quite shy and kept to themselves most of the time, and that a certain naked apron was no longer present.

The 1st and 2nd years opted to chat about wanting to meet their idol, the person who took Totsuki, along everyone in it, and turned it over its head. They gossiped about what he could possibly be doing, and where he could possibly be.

Megumi found it funny that she too really wanted to gossip and chat with them about him, despite being duly informed of where he was and what he was doing through texts (of course she never did gossip with them, and she kept the details to herself). It was incredibly against her style and personality type to desire gossip.

She did know that if he was there, no matter how busy they were there would be no silent night at the dorm. She knew of the impact he's had on all of them, especially her. She remembered the crazy rollercoaster ride that he was, and the fact that he managed to bring them all along with it.

A shooting star spiraled through the sky, and she couldn't help alluding to him, again.

_I wish that you'd just come home. _

Now, she'd caught feelings for the redhead ever since their second year, when he triumphantly led them to overthrow the Central regime. But she also realized then and there that she wasn't the kind of girl he needs, and so she'd buried those feelings deep, hoping they never sprout again. She has sort of accepted it now, but nevertheless it still stings her deep inside.

However, now wasn't the time for her to be selfish. She knew that she wasn't the only one who missed him. Some would admit it, some won't, and some would never do it even with a gun to their head, but she knew that they all missed him.

**Ting!**

And so, fittingly, a text was received. However, it was currently 12:03 am, and she did not really have any late-night text mates since everyone she knew respected her neat and tidy sleeping schedule.

Well, everyone except him.

_N-no way. Did he transfer to another restaurant again? Is he in an airport somewhere? Don't tell me he got in trouble again—_

_Wait, why am I thinking of him already?! It might be from someone else!_

Unable to suppress her curiosity, she finally tapped the notification. Upon the screen of her phone, she read a few magical words which caused her to smile uncontrollably, like a kid in a candy store. Her previous introspective mood had all but faded away, and she was now being assaulted by the countless butterflies in her stomach.

_Ah. I thought I said I'd given up? Seems that's not the case, eh? Ehe~ ehehe~_

* * *

Takumi Aldini was pissed. Or depressed. Or maybe a little bit of both. Whatever it was, it wasn't something good, or so his brother Asami thought.

Ever since he left, Takumi had been restless. During the first few weeks, his brother's mood was more, "Hah! I will train myself to death while you're away frolicking, you fool! And then I will utterly defeat you in our next battle, and rightfully claim our mezzaluna back!" But now, it was more like a very clingy girlfriend who's suffering from some sort of withdrawal because she broke up with her man (which explains why Takumi had been staring at his phone murmuring his name for around an hour now).

Well, to be fair, Asami also missed the man. It didn't matter what he was up to, it was always something fun and challenging for him. His high school life, which he expected to be so-so, had become so colorful and vibrant just because some dude is way too obnoxious for his sake.

Asami smirked as he found within himself some sympathy for his brother.

"AAAAH! Why?! Why won't you come back, you… you FOOL. You dumbass! Just… what made you have to leave us?! Are you that afraid of losing to me?! Is it my fault? Come bAck! PleasE!"

Asami then proceeded to take those words back. He doesn't think that's still on the category of "missing" someone. He stood up to tell his brother to calm the hell down, but he was perplexed because his brother suddenly went quiet.

"Ha. Haha. HAHAHA!" And then his brother proceeded to laugh quite hysterically.

At this point, Asami was straight-up terrified. He was contemplating taking his brother to a psychologist when his brother spoke to him.

"Sorry about that, Asami, and also these past 8 months that I haven't been myself. But, none of that matters now, because…"

"Because?"

"?"

And at that revelation of his brother, Asami admitted that he himself also felt very excited, because his so-so high school life was about to take a turn for the wild, again.

* * *

It was autumn, the weird season of jacket mornings and sweater evenings, plus the signature candy-colored leaves—

Now if only autumn in sweet sunny California was that colorful.

Well, it is currently autumn season, but the neighborhoods of East Los Angeles were still quite warm. It was, however, slightly cooler now, as it was just before dawn and the breeze was sort of chilly.

Being quite far on the outskirts, a certain small town was silent and uneventful. However, an Airbnb near the town's center still had its lights brightly lit, and the tenant inside was far from being silent.

And speaking of candy-colored leaves, the said tenant, Yukihira Souma, had just begun contemplating on whether he should finally end his over-extended academic leave and book a flight back home.

He was currently sharpening his favorite knife, a single-beveled Japanese classic, as he was internalizing for a big day at the kitchen tomorrow. He was methodically and soundly grinding the blade against a high quality whetstone, indicative of the intensity of his cooking world tour.

His concentration was interrupted when his phone's alarm rang.

**Ring Ring**

_It's already 4:30 am huh? Well, Imma just decide about this later and head to the kitchen before old man Puck goes crazy again. Besides, this might as well be the day I get that old man to put my dish on the menu. I've been practicing that dish of his for the past few weeks! Imma get him now, hopefully. _

_Yosh, this knife's just about done. It's time to head out._

And so, Souma, who had just gotten home at around 1:00 am, proceeded to take a short shower (the type where you only scrub your man parts and armpits), dressed himself in a typical chef's attire, tied his signature bandana on his arm, and hiked out of his crappy 3.9-star Airbnb.

Souma's had enough Uber shenanigans to dread Uber drivers operating at this hour of the day, so he just decided use his cheap rented road bike and cycle his way to Wolfgang Puck Bar & Grill, his de facto workplace for the past 3 weeks.

_If I get my dish on the menu here today, then I guess I can go back for a little bit. It ain't too long before graduation anyway. I might as get my diploma, if I can still get it, and kick my dad's ass while I'm at it. Oh, and I also need to get a certain snarky blonde to admit my dishes are delicious._

_Hey, wait a sec. It is currently 4:45 and the kitchen opens at 5… I am on a shitty road bike, and the restaurant is at least 7 kilometers away…_

_**Shit.**_

* * *

"So, what do you have to say for yourself, Yukihira?" said an old man, roughly in his 60s, as he was tapping his foot in irritation.

Apparently this old man was Souma's boss, Wolfgang Puck, and he isn't too pleased with the boy arriving two hours late.

"I'm sorry chef! I was just… I was just—"

"What? You were just too damned stupid to know how to manage your time and plan your commutes like any other normal person?"

"Well, yeah, I guess there's that. But anyways chef, I think today's the day!"

"Today's the day? Don't dodge my questions! And why exactly should I let an imbecilic hooligan like you place something on my menu? If you can't even be punctual to the kitchen, you don't deserve a shot at my menu!"

"But chef! I practiced wrapping the pastry on the bass! And I got it down!"

"… Hoh. So you think by imitating my signature dish you can get my recognition? Fine, let's see it then. If your pastry-wrapped bass can at least reach the heels of mine, I'll listen. If it doesn't, then you're better off as some German shepherd shit on the garden outside."

**Five hours later**

And so here Souma was, in Wolfgang Puck's very own personal kitchen, explaining to him the dish he'd like to add to their menu.

Everything in sight was pristine. The utensils, bowls, dishes, heck, even the floor was clean enough to eat on. Souma surmised that even those cabinets under the sink that are nasty anywhere else would somehow be smell- and insect-free.

Aside from being clean, this place was extremely organized, like it was some sort of puzzle and everything had to be in its proper place. Cutlery was arranged according to type and size, and even the state-of-the-art induction stoves were squarely set on the island in the middle.

_Really does seem like this geezer's personal kitchen._

Personally for Souma, this kitchen was too clean, to the point of blandness. Of course he knew the importance of a sanitary workplace, but he liked his kitchen a bit more raw and chaotic. He's able to think up something only he could when he feels like he's surrounded by a storm. This place was too tucked-in, bow-tied, and shoe-shined for him.

_Well, whatever, let's get this started with._

"Say, Yukihira, how'd you manage to learn how to do it?" asked Chef Puck as he was preparing the ingredients required for Souma's dish.

"Do what, chef?" replied Souma.

As he sets them religiously neat on the counter, he continues, "To wrap the fish in pastry while making sure the pastry doesn't crack and the fish doesn't get soggy and undercooked?"

"I practiced chef. I've been practicing in this cooking class kitchen that I rented out." Puck raised an eyebrow at this revelation. "I've been practicing the whole three weeks I was here, but the past few days, when I really started to, you know, get the hang of it, I just kept at it." Souma finished.

After closing his eyes and heaving a considerable sigh, Puck said "It's not something you just, 'keep at it.' It took me 4 years to master that, you know. And just the wrapping by the way, not taking into account the flavors and sauces. Also, how much did you spend renting that place out?"

"Around $800 dollars total. I kept at it 'til like midnight these past few weeks." Souma nonchalantly answered.

"And what time did you get home yesterday?"

"Around 1 am."

At that, Puck erupted in a fit of laughter, which was rather unbecoming of the old, stern chef. Of course, Souma was perplexed with this break in character.

"C-chef? Is something wrong? Did I say somethin' funny?"

"No, no, no, Yukihira. You just reminded me of my younger self, stinting at random kitchens until ungodly hours, you know, just chasing after my dreams like a madman!" Puck then continued chuckling to himself.

_But you are a madman! _Souma thought.

"Anyway… fine, I will excuse your tardiness just for today, repeat it and you're never allowed in this kitchen again. As for your dish, you better conjure up something good or else I'll throw it out of the menu in a week!"

Hearing the head chef finally get him off the hook, Souma answered in a mock soldier fashion, "Yes, chef!"

"And also, the 800 bucks are on me. Consider it a welcoming gift."

"You mean…?"

"Yes, you'll be registered as an irregular crew here. Anytime you want to come over and cook, just go in and tell the manager in charge that day," said Puck, apparently in a much better mood than earlier.

"I can see it in your eyes, Yukihira, you have someplace you really want to go to. Home, perhaps?"

Souma nodded.

"I see. And also, a piece of advice, that fire burning within you is powerful, Yukihira. So promise me that you will never let yourself be burnt out by that fire, okay? No more 1 am nights!"

Souma was surprised by his boss' unexpected sappiness and sudden advice, but he took it in anyway, "Woah! That's real cool of you chef. Thanks a lot! And don't worry; I got too many things planned to get burnt out!"

"Fool. Well, get to cooking! The dish isn't going to form itself!"

"Oh, and after this, I'm immediately booking a flight back home in a bit." Souma winced in dread at the fact that he'd be crawling to LAX again soon. _Definitely not a pleasant place to be in, _he thought.

"Go ahead, we're better off without you here anyways, imbecile."

"Heh, let's see if you still believe that after I finish this new dish, chef!" quipped Souma.

At that, old man Puck smiled.

_We're better off knowing that a world-class talent like you is taking his time and keeping to his roots, not being devoured by the storm of cooking. Best wishes, Yukihira. _

_And, you really remind me of another redheaded Asian cook a while back. What was his name again? Joi—, Joi—something?_

* * *

Yo, 'sup doods. Read, review, and enjoy (?)

I had nothing better to do other than play fate/grand order endlessly so I decided to practice my writing skills for now.

Chapter 2 is halfway done so it's probably coming whether you guys like it or not.

Also, the premise of Souma going back is definitely not new, and I obviously did not pioneer it. Shout out to whoever wrote "Homecoming" (was it ninag95?) for really paving the way here.

Don't worry, my story is going in a different way, and it's certainly not at the level of others, but hey, give it a try?


	2. Chapter 2

The Resurgence of Excellence

Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: I own neither SnS nor the cover image. I also own no considerable amount of money and/or possession. Don't sue me._

Regarding the previous chapter, Wolfgang is a real chef and his resto is real as well. The bass wrapped in pastry is real, but I took liberties since I am definitely not a chef.

* * *

Yukihira Joichirou was feeling conflicted. He had just been recently invited over to the Nakiri manor to cook a meal for the family by Erina, the granddaughter of his good old pal Senzaemon. However, he was tired and gassed out. He, like that brat son of his, had been travelling all over Europe cooking for his dearly-missed aristocratic friends, and it was only a week ago that he got home and got some rest.

He certainly wanted to go, it has been a while since he's seen the Nakiris, but he is in no mood to cook anything for anyone, especially people with palates as delicate as theirs.

He was mulling over this dilemma, until he felt a vibration in his pocket.

Without checking whoever it was who called, he picked his phone up and answered. "Hello, Yukihira Joichiro here."

"Yo, old man." Upon recognizing the voice of his bratty son, he grinned widely. _Well, we've got some dues ex machina material here. Let's see._

"Souma? You brat; where've you been? Mind if you get back here already? The shop's all dusty an' all."

"Well, yeah, I've thought about that already, actually, I'm in Narita right now. I'm just calling to let you know I'm still alive, and that I'm on Japanese soil."

"Hmmm, well, now that you're here, I've got an idea."

"What idea, dad?"

"Well, you see…"

* * *

It was around 10 am on a warm Saturday when Souma, who was supposed to be severely jet-lagged but miraculously wasn't, arrived at the gate of the Nakiri manor. His father had asked him the day prior to get his luggage down at their place and head over to the manor for something he needed him to do, which his father had not specified.

Honestly, Souma was tired, but the excitement and comfort of being back in his homeland has kept him up like some sort of Red Bull for the soul. He was also still riding that satisfaction he felt at leaving a dish on the menu back at Wolfgang's restaurant.

He got there on his trusted moped, which he had missed, and after he removed his helmet, he once again called his dad to open up for him, since he wasn't too keen on pressing that intimidating doorbell (complete with a CCTV attachment) beside the gate.

He was respectably dressed up, a habit pounded into him by the numerous celebrity chefs he had worked for who screamed at him to maintain his appearance in their restaurants.

He was wearing a red button-up shirt, which he was too lazy to button up all the way, and casual, black slacks. He completed the outfit with some loafers and a watch he'd received as gifts from the people he'd met. And, of course, the bandana was still wrapped around his arm.

"Yo Souma, you there?"

"Yeah. I am. So d'ya mind if you tell me what on earth it is that we're gonna do?"

As they were conversing over the phone, the huge metal gate opened up, prompting Souma to take his moped and enter the estate.

"Well, we're going to have a shokugeki."

Now, Souma was tired, jet-lagged, and sleepy as hell, but when he heard those magical words come out of his father's mouth, it was like he just got an illegal dose of caffeine.

It has finally come, a time wherein his father and he were in the same city (let alone country), they were in the vicinity of a high-quality kitchen, and they had worthy judges (the Nakiris). It was time to settle the depressingly one-sided score. It was time to get a taste of victory.

Souma had no second thoughts. He didn't even have any first thoughts. He was absolutely resolute. He could rest all he wants after this is over. For now, he has to take this chance.

He simply replied, "Let's get it on with, dad."

* * *

"Are you sure about this, Joichirou?" Senzaemon couldn't help but ask Joichiro with a raised brow.

"Oh come on, old man, he's got it!"

"You seem awfully proud that you're pushing your responsibilities upon your exhausted, underage son," was Mana's snarky response.

"True. It's not a matter of whether he can cook. We all know he can. It's a matter of does he want to cook," added Senzaemon.

"… That hit the mark somewhere. Well, it's not like I'm forcing it on him. If he doesn't lose, meaning if he wins or it's a draw, which is possible since we only have you two as judges, then he gets to choose who cooks for you guys."

"That's a very convoluted system you have there. Well, anything's fine for me as long as it's edible. If I remember correctly, your son attained 2nd-place honors during last year's Blue?"

"Yes. And he would've gotten 1st if you weren't such a daughter-con, Mana."

"What a stupid joke, I am as impartial as humanly possible. I am in no way this 'daughter-con' that you speak of, right father?"

"Well, you certainly have been raving all about Erina all the time while you were away recuperating. So despite your perceived harshness, I must say, you are quite the daughter-con."

"Tch. You were supposed to support me there you know?"

As the two males were laughing at the pissed of Mana, the doorbell of the front door rang as it was opened.

Then one Yukihira Souma stepped inside. He had the same aura, same stupid, cocky grin, same bandana, but longer hair, greater height, and beefier build than before. Not to mention an extreme makeover in his fashion sense, which looked weird at first, but then it all fit in to create an overly attractive silhouette.

Joichiro was stricken at first, but he recovered himself and proceeded to greet his overhauled son. "Yo, kiddo, you've grown."

Senzaemon chimed in, "That you have, young man. How are you doing?"

"Doing very good, old man—" Souma then felt eyes on him as he saw Erina's mom (whose name he forgot) glaring at him.

_Like mother like daughter I guess. I really am back, aren't I?_

With that thought, Souma's grin grew wider as he continued in a cocky tone,

"—Good enough to take this old fart of mine on a shokugeki."

"Heh, nothing's changed, eh?" Joichiro quipped as he led Souma to the Nakiris' kitchen.

"What's the theme?"

"They're having some lamb, so let's go with that."

* * *

"Fucking hell, Yukihira! Where the hell is the fucking lamb sauce? Come on, you know nothing is worth shit without the lamb sauce! Chop chop, hurry you prick!" A tall, blonde, Caucasian man was screaming hysterically in a very expensive-looking kitchen as numerous chefs and sous chefs around him ran around like prancing ponies.

"Holy fucking shit! Yukihira with that pace you'll knock off a Michelin star from this restaurant! Do you not know how holy that is? Why don't you get your slow ass moving now?!"

Yukihira was used to pressure and stress. He worked in a damn diner, for Pete's sake. But this level of pressure is definitely not normal, which was good, because he was stinting in the infamous kitchen of none other than Gordon Ramsay.

Every time he messed up, it was like all hell went loose. Every time he was even a second slow, it was like World War 3 started. Every time he forgot the lamb sauce?

Oh boy. Let's not go there.

Yukihira shuddered at the thought of going through that again. So, swiftly but carefully, he delivered a whole gallon of the sauce to the counter, ready to garnish everything that comes out of the kitchen.

"Chef, here it is."

"I don't need your fucking confirmation! Make a second batch! The guests have been waiting for 5 minutes and 34 seconds now! Do you want them to wait more?!"

"No chef!"

"Then get your ass over there and make some lamb sauce!"

"Sir yes, SIR!" Yukihira didn't know what got into him, but at that time, it felt like the only correct response.

"Good! Altogether now: ALL HAIL THE MICHELIN STARS!" Gordon screamed at Yukihira, and somehow climbed a higher volume and shouted the kitchen mantra.

At that, all of the 25 chefs in the 2 million dollar kitchen proceeded to shout with all zeal and vigor, "ALL HAIL THE MICHELIN STARS!"

* * *

Yukihira was burning with passion and zeal as he remembered those hellish days working under Chef Ramsay; the precision, the perfection, the cursing, and of course, the lamb sauce.

As he was reminiscing those days, he was cooking up a dish of his own style, but with all those skills and values he learned from there infused into it. Frankly, it was miles up ahead of anything he could have made 8 months ago, but Souma didn't notice; it wasn't like he could have shokugekis with his friends weekly to gauge his progress.

But as of this moment, Souma had become the undisputed greatest chef inside all Totsuki, something that his father would be the first to find out.

Joichiro was pretty much done with his dish at this point. But as he looked over to his left, he saw that Souma was still stirring a medium-sized pot that seemed irrelevant to the dish.

"Yo, Souma, you do know the Nakiris don't exactly like stew?"

"I know, oyaji. This isn't stew. It's sauce!" Souma replied with a wide, cocky grin.

"Hoh, something you learned while out there?"

"Yep." Souma said as he checked his timer. "3…2…1… Okay! I'm done."

"Took you long enough, now, let's serve!"

Joichiro proceeded to serve his dish first, as he was the first to finish. Senzaemon and Mana were stoic upfront, but they were excited within themselves. It wasn't everyday you could taste the great Asura's cooking.

The dish was slow-roasted leg of lamb with rosemary and Vietnamese aromatics, along with twice-baked La Bonnotte potatoes, something which reflected the worldwide style that belied Joichiro's cuisine.

As the two Nakiris took a bite their "stripping" immediately kicked in. Their mouths were filled with a soft, gooey sensation that was supposed to be the lamb meat, but felt like ambrosia for the gods. The Vietnamese herbs colluded with the rosemary to become a comfortable hammock for them to rest their weary souls. And lastly, the La Bonnotte potatoes were like bombs of flavor that enveloped them to complete the experience.

It was nothing short of a culinary masterpiece. Joichiro must've actually wanted to win this time, so he didn't pull any stops.

_Sorry, son, you gotta lose this one._

However, Souma was not rattled at all by the reactions of the judges, he was simply standing there with a blank (but somehow still cocky) face.

As soon as the Nakiris were finished, he brought in his own dish.

It was… lamb sushi?

Well, it was lamb that was sliced incredibly thin, then seared ever so slightly that it's mildly cooked around the edges. The slices were draped over a surprisingly dark risotto, and then it was all covered in a caramelized sauce.

It wasn't anything other than unique, avant garde, and daring. It was so, well, Souma.

Mana Nakiri, surprisingly, was the first one to take a bite.

"!" _What is this?! I knew this kid was up to something. How on earth do the lamb slices have flavor if they were sliced so thinly and then seared?! And who the hell makes purple risotto? But, why, why is it all working together so well, like it's chanting a mantra?_

Senzaemon proceeded to take a bite as well. And his reaction was one of shock.

The dish was so good, it was overpowering them. It was filling them with vigor, with energy. It made them want to curse and swear. It made them want to recite a mantra they've never even heard before.

"All… hail the Michelin… stars?!"

"Yes! That's right! That's Chef Gordon's mantra! I knew you'd say it!"

_Knew I'd say it? I had not even heard of that! I know Gordon, but the man isn't one to shout his mantras in public, so… how exactly did this young lad transfer a phrase through a dish?_

Then, Senzaemon remembered. He figured it out, the singular answer to how this Frankenstein dish works, and how he learned a phrase through a dish.

"Lamb sauce."

"Yes. It's the lamb sauce. It makes anything work, like, literally anything. You can make mud pancakes and they'll be good as long as there's lamb sauce."

"Hoh." Joichiro muttered as he decided to take a bite of Souma's dish as well.

He smiled. _So that's what was in the pot. Lamb sauce. A whole pot reduced and simmered down to enough sauce for two dishes. All that concentrated flavor, and strength, almost as if…_

It was almost as if you were being screamed at by Chef Ramsay to kneel at his newest disciple, Souma. It was a dish that could make people learn phrases, and a dish that could make the proud Nakiris want to kneel. As for the "stripping," let's just say that every employee inside the Nakiri manor felt their undergarments slip off.

As for Mana, who was cursed by the God's tongue; well, she was silent as she was trying to hold back tears.

_Since when was it? The last time I genuinely liked a dish? The last time I wanted to have a second serving? Was it when I was five?_

Mana stared at Joichiro's son. Then she remembered she had a daughter at the same age as he was. Upon that realization, she started to grin.

_Well, he's certainly not bad at all in the looks department, maybe a 9/10. And he's Joichiro's son, so he also isn't some random stowaway. I mean, it would be very nice if he became a Nakiri, and cooked for us every day. Besides, Erina also has this wretched God's tongue! Win-win! I just hope they get along. Fufu. _

"So, umm, who won?"

"… I vote for Souma's dish." Senzaemon sighed. _No hard feelings, Joichiro, but, your son has become something that we can no longer contain. _

_Hoh, this is getting me excited!_

Joichiro looked at him with understanding. He knew he lost this one. It was finally that time where his son has surpassed him. Well, he better get to preparing the dishes for the Nakiri's brunch—

"I… vote for Joichiro's dish." Mana said.

Senzaemon and Joichiro turned around in utter shock.

"What? Just how much of a daughter-con are you?!"

"Mana, are you certain of your decision? I thought you were impartial when judging?"

Souma didn't react aversely. Because of his density and total lack of emotional intelligence, he mistook Mana's scheming grin as condescending, as if she was mocking his dish, even though what she was thinking was how nice it would be if he hooked up with her daughter.

Mana wanted Souma to lose (or not win) so that he would be the one to cook for them. She loves Joichiro's cooking, but well, Souma's also up there, and she wanted a change of pace.

_Besides, this'll be a good surprise for Erina._

"Wait, so Souma didn't win, but he also didn't lose. So, technically he's the one who picks." Joichiro added.

_B-blunder! _Mana realized that it wouldn't have worked anyway. So she sighed in resignation and—

"I'll cook," said Souma. "I can choose who cooks right? I'll do it."

"W-woah. You sure there, son?"

"Yeah, the aroma of the lamb sauce made me feel all fidgety. I wanna cook."

* * *

The round table was silent. The style, the brashness of the dish immediately gave away the cook. But the level, the quality; it wasn't anywhere near his level just a few months ago.

I mean, who the hell on earth serves something like lamb sushi, while making it taste like the best lamb they've ever had?

"All… hail the Michelin stars?" murmured Soe.

"I have experienced that too, son," said Senzaemon. "The dish implores you to recite that mantra."

Asahi was straight-up shivering. _How the hell did Joichiro get tied with this dude? Seems like mix-up. And dude what the hell? You just demolished my cross knives last year! And now you're here looking like Ramsay!_

Erina stood up. "I'll be excusing myself."

"Where are you headed?" asked Mana.

"To the chef of this dish, I'll give him a piece of my mind." answered Erina.

"Don't be too hard on him." Mana followed, with a tiny grin.

_Why don't you just hook up with him already? I could get used to eating this much every day._

"He's in the main kitchen, by the way." Shouted Joichiro as Erina started stomping off.

Joichiro continued. "You think she's mad?"

"More like she misses him, not that she'd ever say it." Replied Soe.

Azami chimed in. "That's true. So this is what's become of him. I am impressed."

"And you better not meddle with them again. I want him as a Nakiri!" said Mana.

Soe was surprised. "Woah, since when did my sister become so fond of an outsider?"

"Well, he's no outsider, he's Joichiro's son. Besides, I'm not fond of him. His talent simply merits my praise. You're simply exaggerating the situation. The last time I was 'fond' of anyone, well, it turned out into Azami."

"Mana, I'm sorry—" Azami started, but stopped as soon as he saw a hellish glare coming his way.

"Damn, you two have to make up, big time!" Joichiro said as he followed with a hearty laugh.

At that, the entire table, except the awkward couple and the illegitimate son, burst into chuckles. It was true. Mana and Azami had to make up big time. It has been almost a year since they last had a heart-to-heart. They also need to really sort out their family dynamic, along with Erina, before it becomes too awkward and irreparable.

* * *

Well, right now, with the crazy tornado that _he _is, surely they'll have plenty to talk about.

Chapter was done a few weeks back, but my PC broke down and I had to fix it, so it got delayed.

Anyways, read, review, and enjoy (?)

Next chapter will be about the reactions of the other characters to Souma's return.

Erina's reaction? Let's save the best for last.


	3. Chapter 3

The Resurgence of Excellence

Chapter 3

_Disclaimer: I own neither SnS nor the cover image. I also own no considerable amount of money and/or possessions. Don't sue me._

Sorry it's late ppl, school went crazy and threw everything at us (including the kitchen sink) so I couldn't really find the time to write.

And then corona-chan came and it got a bit chaotic around here so I hope y'all understand.

But hey, it's got Sorina, so maybe you'd like it. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

* * *

Within Totsuki's main campus were certain specialized buildings designated to the various clubs, seminars and research societies that littered the campus. These buildings, and by extension, the rooms, were always in a great degree of disarray as panicked students went in and out going about their stressful days.

One such seminar, the renowned Shiomi seminar, was particularly messy. And by particularly messy, it was overrun by paper.

Stacks and stacks of paper on the desks, chairs, the floor, and heck, even in the restroom. There was no end to these papers that were scattered all over the place, their contents nearly indiscernible with the sheer amount of jargon and fancy terms put in.

One would think such important papers would be kept neat and tidy, but Hayama Akira does not have that luxury. Why?

These papers were all due. Tomorrow.

_Due tomorrow? Do tomorrow. _Hayama sarcastically thought.

Upon the graduation of the 3rd years, Hayama found himself catapulted all the way up to 2nd Seat, which was good, it was something Hayama held very proud within his heart...

… Until the 1st Seat left.

The 1st and 2nd Seats are regarded as not only the best even among the Elite Ten, they were also the busiest. The workload placed upon them is such that no ordinary student (or person, for that matter) could cope up with such stress.

Luckily, the 1st and 2nd Seats were guaranteed to be no ordinary students, being able to stand atop even amongst the elite class which was the Totsuki student body. However, a human body has its limits.

No one can—or is supposed to—handle the workload of both Seats. And unfortunately, Hayama was in that exact predicament.

_I'm so tired. Oh my god. When Yukihira gets back, it's going to be my turn to take a break. Probably go to India and learn about spices. Haha. Ha…_

_Ah no, scratch going to India. I'll just go to my room and sleep for a few months straight. That ought to flush out all this stress from my body._

Of course Hayama had split the work with the entire team. However, being the Seat closest to Souma's, he had the lion's share of the work. Well, along with Erina.

However, Erina was also the headmaster, so quite frequently she would be unavailable to help with the papers, so in her stead, Hisako helped Hayama out instead.

This led to a rather peculiar bond being formed between the two. And Hayama found her to be an interesting person, and her expertise with medicinal cooking and various herbs and plants meshed well with his love for spices.

In short, they were "compatible." Or at least Jun said so. Not that he's chasing after a relationship at the moment. He wouldn't even have the time.

Speaking of not having enough time, he'd been drowned in so much paperwork that he was worried he was losing his edge when it came to cooking.

Well, to be frank, he wasn't. Not by a long shot. He was so proficient at concocting spice mixes that his mixes could make the ancient spice masters in India blush. His nose was sharper than ever, and he has also broadened his horizon, venturing into other types of cuisine, while all the while carrying his signature spice.

And, as the 2nd Seat, you're bound to get challenged to a shokugeki. Most often it was from his fellow Elite Ten Members who wanted to have his spot. Now, Hayama was starting to think of losing on purpose so that they could get his spot and they could sub in for him in that hellhole. But unfortunately for him, the others realized that and stopped.

Sadly, there was no escape for Hayama.

Well, that was until he received a call from Jun herself bringing quite possibly the best news he'd ever heard in 8 months.

* * *

Souma was finishing up his daily tasks as a chef in a small scale restaurant on the outskirts of Manhattan. He had arrived there just a few days ago and upon serving a simple dish to the co-owner was immediately promoted to sous chef and then, soon enough, to chef in what seemed like a blink of an eye.

The restaurant was rather small and the menu items were cheap. There wasn't any semblance of the glamour and fancy that he slightly became accustomed to as he apprenticed under numerous celebrity chefs.

He went into this restaurant in hope of seeing Bobby Flay, the legendary TV chef who seemed to be less sophisticated and more humble and common than his peers. This small, inconspicuous restaurant was actually partly under his ownership.

Chef Bobby represented something that Souma was very passionate about, something that had always defined him all these years: the masses. Case and point: Bobby only had one Michelin star, which had been taken away recently because he "failed to maintain the standards." This event has led to him being censured by numerous gourmet critics.

But personally Souma couldn't care less. He focused on making people feel good, and Souma respected that.

Now if they only had a chance to meet.

"Hey, Souma, was it? Care to meet me after this shift and let's grab some dinner?" A hand was placed upon Souma's shoulder as the co-owner of the restaurant invited him out to dinner.

"Sure, boss! I'll finish right up."

"Ah, that's unnecessary. Take your time. I'll be waiting by the lobby." The co-owner continued with a bright, beaming smile. Honestly, this co-owner was such a refreshing sight for Souma, who, for the past few months, had experienced all sorts of stress and pressure from short-tempered individuals. It wasn't necessary, but it was a well-appreciated change of pace.

It also happened to be this co-owner's habit to invite out his employees, chefs, servants, and even the janitors, to eat with him one-on-one. Apparently, today was Souma's turn.

Souma finally finished cleaning up and he immediately proceeded to the locker room to change. After greeting his co-workers goodbye and changing from a chef's attire into a comfortable and warm tracksuit, he went out into the lobby to meet the co-owner.

When he went into the lobby, he saw the co-owner interacting with his patrons. The co-owner was joking with them. He was laughing with them. He was even asking for some of their food, which they obviously got from his restaurant.

Souma couldn't help but release a smile at this scene. It was just so nostalgic. This smile did not go unnoticed by the co-owner, who promptly excused himself from his company and headed over to where Souma was standing.

"Hey, you ready to go? Where'd you want to eat? It's my treat." The co-owner said. "And don't go saying something like, 'anywhere is fine,' that just makes it harder on me, you know." He continued.

"Well, is it alright if we drop by for some Japanese? I'm, well…"

"Getting homesick?"

"Well, no, not exactly. Just, seeing you with the customers earlier gave me a dose of nostalgia an' all."

"Oh really? That's interesting, how I gave you that sense of nostalgia. I mean, I'm Bobby-freaking-Flay! I look nothing like you oriental folks!"

"Wait… What did you just say, boss?"

"I said I don't look like you oriental men. Oh, I didn't mean it in a bad way—"

"No, no. Before that."

"Ah, well. I'm Bobby Flay!"

"What?! You're Bobby Flay?!"

"Um, well, yes? I thought you recognized me."

"Well, I don't really watch a lot of American TV, so…"

"Ah! That makes perfect sense, my bad." Bobby paused. "It's just… I've been so used to being recognized that I sometimes forget to introduce myself! Sorry about that." He then proceeded to smile brightly at Souma.

"Darn, I've always wanted to meet you, Chef Bobby. I've got tons of questions to ask!"

"Oh, is that so? Well, tomorrow we got a break, so we got plenty of time!"

* * *

"I mean, I don't cook for the attention. I never did. It just so happened that I found myself on TV, you know? I mean, I've been criticized for being a faux chef or for being not as skilled as other celebrity chefs, and I don't really care about that." Chef Bobby said, as Souma was listening keenly to every word he said.

"I cook for others. And by others I mean ordinary people: my neighbors, friends, family. To me, every customer is a friend. And if they stick around and become patrons, then they're family."

"Heh. I get you, Chef."

Chef Bobby smiled at Souma as he ruffled his hair. "But, most importantly, I cook for myself. I cook because it's fun. It's what I want to do. Cooking saved my life, from being a reckless social outcast to someone who can and hopefully did make a difference on the lives of people."

"Every day I open my restaurants hoping that my food will cheer someone up. That's why I don't care about the prestige, or the criticism of the rich. The reason I can stand here, you know, not being swept away by the elitism in the world of restaurateurs, is because I know my purpose. I know why I cook. You have to find that too."

Souma's forehead was crunched up, indicating his deep introspection.

"It's perfectly fine to desire greatness. Just remember to really focus on what's truly important to you. What you truly connect with. And for me, it's being home. Home is my anchor against this storm that is cooking. You have to find that anchor, Souma, or else you'll be swept away!"

Chef Bobby paused. "The secret to cooking, and to any craft in general, is to find something you're willing to cook your entire life for, something you're willing to dedicate your craft to."

Souma was surprised. "That sounds an awful lot like something my pops once said to me."

"Is he a chef?"

"Yeah."

"Then judging by the similarity in our advice, he ought to be a damn good chef, I reckon." Chef Bobby joked.

"Well, he is."

At that, the two men shared a hearty laugh as they snacked on their late night sashimi. The food was so-so, but the company, it was something special. Both of them knew they made a good friend that night.

Bobby gave Souma his phone number, not the business one, where all his business partners and clients call through, but his personal one, the one friends and family go through. After that, Souma stinted in the kitchen two more days, and moved along on his journey.

* * *

Souma was grinning to himself. After all that he had gone through in one day (the shokugeki, cooking for the Nakiris) he really needed a breather. And as we was resting, he couldn't help but think back to the time he spent with Chef Bobby. Truth be told, he didn't learn as much in the way of cooking as he had with other chefs, but somehow he felt like he learned so much more. Chef Bobby's advice was practical, comforting, and eerie to Souma. In a sense, it was eerie for Souma to be so sentimental about certain things, such as his want to be home, his purpose, and it perplexed his dense mind.

Meanwhile, just outside the kitchen, beside the kitchen door stood one Erina Nakiri. She was confused, apprehensive, but above all else, extremely irritated. She had to exercise all her willpower to prevent herself from stomping right in, grabbing _him _by the collar, and tossing him into her office to finish all the paperwork that they had been working on.

But Erina decided not to do that. She decided she doesn't want to be like that anymore, if she can help it. Sure, maybe a few years ago she wouldn't even hesitate, but now she knew there was something between Souma and her. Something precious, which she couldn't quite get her finger on, but she knew it was there. She didn't know if it was friendship or trust—not that she'd ever say that out loud—but she knew that she should be more considerate to him now.

There was also the debt of gratitude she owed to Souma. Souma basically fixed both her daddy issues (Central) and her mommy issues (Blue). She now knew that she had to treat him better, especially with how accommodating he and all the other Polar Star tenants were to her.

She thought there was something between them. And that was why she was so mad at what he did, you know, the whole "disappearing-for-8-whole-months" thing.

_He could have at least called or texted me! No replies to my e-mails. No news coming my way. Everyone else seemed up to speed on where he was, what he was doing, but not me?! I mean, who does he think is shouldering his responsibilities? His duties? Who is authorizing his absurd Sabbatical leave? He… He was the one who recommended me as headmistress, and yet here he is, running around like nothing ever mattered to him._

_Sigh_

"Eh? But I've been texting you for quite a while now, if anything, you're the one who's not replying." Said Souma. Souma was just about to doze off in the kitchen, with the jet-lag finally catching up to him and all, but when he heard the familiar complaining of a certain blonde, he couldn't help but investigate.

"Eeh? Y-yukihira-kun? Don't surprise me like that!" _Did I say that out loud?_

"Yeah, you did. I heard ya all the way from inside, so I came here to see you. And you did it again! Nakiri, are you alright?"

"You…" Then Erina thought about it. Since he'd already heard her mental rant, she might as well finish it through.

"You didn't send me anything!" Erina exclaimed, much to Souma's amusement.

_Ah, I really am back. Nothing spells Totskuki better than a screaming Nakiri._

"I did. Here, look at this." Souma then pulled out his phone to show Erina the over 400 texts that he had sent to her over the past 8 months.

Souma leaned closer to Erina to provide her with a better view of his phone, but Erina was having a panic attack with how close he was to her.

She noticed the way he was dressed. It was such an overhaul compared to what he would previously wear, and yet somehow it felt perfect on him. She also couldn't help but notice a faint musky scent, probably of some high class perfume, wafting from the redhead.

All of these provocative stimuli, along with the violent thumping of her chest were causing her to become lightheaded.

"Nakiri? Are you really okay?" Souma then went eye to eye with Erina, confused by the latter's silence.

Erina's flushed face and labored breathing worried him, so he took the liberty to place the back of his hand on Erina's forehead, an action that did not go unnoticed by the blonde.

"W-what are you doing?!"

"I'm checking your temperature, this is the best I can do since we don't have a thermometer here, unless you're willing to use those kitchen thermometers." Souma said, seemingly completely unaffected by their close contact.

"Argh! I'm fine! Just, let me get some room to breathe!" Erina said as she pushed on Souma's chest to move him a bit farther. However, the sensation of his toned pectorals against her hands overloaded her mind.

_T-this man! This has got to be bad for my health. _

"Ah, sorry about that. Here you go." Souma said as he stepped a few feet away to give Erina the room she desired. Erina managed calmed down, but she was also oddly disappointed with his action.

_No, Erina. You can't get sidetracked right now! You have to make sure this oaf learns his lesson so he won't do that again and just… leave like that… _

Erina took a few deep breaths to compose herself, then she glared at Souma. She glared at him as if she was trying to melt through steel.

"That's my old number, idiot. I switched phone numbers a few months ago. Didn't you read my e-mail?" Erina said with irritation evident in her tone.

"Ahh, I get it now! So that's why you weren't replying! But how would I know your new number?"

Erina could feel her brain cell count dwindling.

"Did. You. Check. Your. E-mails?" Erina enunciated every word with a step towards Souma. Sure, she promised she would be patient with him this time around, but she's been patient enough with managing his absence.

_I will give him an earful this time. It's not like I haven't been patient with him these past 8 months._

"Ah, n-no, I didn't. I was receiving so many e-mails so I kinda just, you know, let them be." Souma said, stepping back.

Erina sighed. She glared at Souma and continued in a very cold and formal tone. She placed one hand on her hip, and she put the index finger of her other hand on Souma's chest, applying an aggressive pressure. "It seems we have a lack of effective communication between us, and I believe that that is very detrimental and inappropriate, especially considering that you are the 1st Seat, and I am the headmistress. Yukihira Souma-kun, from now on, please take matters like this seriously."Erina took her finger off his chest, and proceeded to do her patented hair flip (though the impact was considerably weaker because of the short length of her hair).

_Next time, please communicate with me properly_.

After reprimanding Souma, Erina bit her lip. She was a bit saddened at how frivolous their communication seemed to him. She thought that they had formed a bond with all that they've gone through. But it seems that wasn't the case. Then again, she may just be reaping what she sowed. Who would want to form a solid connection with someone who, just a few years ago, was degrading them so much and trying to get them expelled? Erina gripped her left arm and looked at the ground as she thought bitterly.

_He's probably just going to laugh and shrug this off, again, like it isn't important at all_.

"Roger that. I'm sorry, Nakiri. I have caused you a lot of trouble, and I promise I'll talk with ya better next time." Souma said in an entirely serious tone.

Upon hearing this, Erina immediately looked up and stared at Souma. She was surprised, to say the least. All her lingering doubts were pushed aside as this surprising turn of events unfolded. The self-deprecating thoughts she had had been flushed away by Souma's gesture.

Yukihira Souma? Apologizing to her? Taking responsibility?

_It seems that little training trip of his wasn't so bad after all._ Erina thought.

Her mood, which had been on a roller coaster ride this past few moments, finally elevated and settled into a general feeling of happiness.

She was happy that he was back. She was happy that he hasn't ignoring her (he was just being really stupid). And most of all, she was happy that he didn't see their relationship as something disposable and dismissible.

This feeling welled up in her chest, but before she can be happy-go-lucky, Souma still needed to learn his lesson.

Yes, she still wasn't done.

Channeling all her resolve and her inner "Ice Princess" as they call it, she stepped even closer to Souma and grabbed both of cheeks, hard.

Souma was absolutely blindsided and couldn't react or brace himself at all, so he took the full brunt of this cheek-abuse.

Erina took out everything, the pent-up stress, the weird feelings she'd been getting for him, the countless hours she laid on her bed, waiting for a message only to get absolutely nothing. She took it all out then and there.

"Ow, ow, oi, Nakiri! That hurts! I already said sorry!" Souma exclaimed. It really did hurt, but internally, he supposed it was deserved.

One thing he learned from his trip was taking ownership of your mistakes and responsibility for your actions. He messed up, and now he knew not to just shrug it off and play it cool, but to take responsibility and learn from his mistakes. So while it really did hurt a lot, he took it in full force.

That didn't stop him from screaming and complaining though.

"Ouch, Nakiri I get it now! Please! Stop, you're gonna rip my face off!" Souma said as he tapped Erina's shoulder as a sign of defeat. The sudden contact threw her off-guard, and so Erina loosened her grip on his face.

_Hmph. _And with a huff, Erina finally conceded to let him go.

She felt a bit bad about it, but that was overwhelmed by an incredible feeling of catharsis, like what you feel when you finally peed after holding it in for a while. Most of all, she was happy that Souma grew up. And of course, she had to show him that she grew up too.

She won't physically hurt him like that and call it a day, even if it's for "punishment." She's better than that now.

"I'm glad you've learned your lesson. Now, come with me Yukihira-kun, let's get your cheeks patched up in the clinic."

"Your mansion has a clinic?"

"Of course Yukihira-kun, who do you think we are?"

"Yeah yeah, bunch o' filthy rich ultra-elites and all that."

"Filthy rich? I'll have you know we get our money through lawful means."

"I know, it's just an expression, ya know?" Souma laughed. Erina wasn't facing him, but she was also flashing a smile smile. She missed bantering with him like this.

She spoke. "Hmph, oh and also, h-here is…"

"Here is what?"

"My new phone number! Just, save it okay! And, all those texts that you sent me, copy them all and send them through that number, copy that, Yukihira-kun?!"

"Hai, hai, roger that." Souma said as he delivered a mock salute to Erina.

* * *

"Wow, first time they meet again and they're already flirting like this; what a bunch of hopeless lovebirds, right, Hisako-chan?" said one white-haired Alice Nakiri as she was leaning on the railing of the second floor of the mansion, overlooking the kitchen and all the action that ensued outside it.

She had apparently not joined the Nakiri family lunch as she was preoccupied with a shokugeki issued by one of the up-and-coming 2nd years.

Hisako replied. "Well, it's not really up to me to meddle in Erina-sama—Erina's personal affairs, so I won't say anything."

Contrary to what she said, she actually felt a mixture of relief and utter fury, mostly directed at the redhead, because of the rollercoaster he'd put her mistress and friend through.

She remembered how Erina's mood fluctuated throughout his absence. It was like the 5 stages of grief, except the first four stages were pure anger and the last one was some kind of depressing denial.

She also found it vexing how the redhead seemed to give her updates relatively frequently, and yet he never seemed to let her mistress know about any news. She had thought of asking him about it, but then again she surmised that she may be overstepping her bounds, and that there was something personal going on between them.

But now she just felt regret, she should have asked him about it, and, though a bit invasive, given him her mistress' new number, so that they could've at least texted!

_I knew he was careless, but what he did right now was just straight up dumb. It's a good thing I always relayed his status Erina._

Of course it was a whole other thing if the person personally delivered the news to you, and Erina wasn't that happy about the fact that she was being bypassed.

It's not like Hisako was dull and couldn't see the development between the two, it was just that she did not have much to reference from. Well, until recently, that is.

She looked to her companion, who seemed to be much more knowledgeable with these matters, and raised a question.

"Ne, Alice-sama, if, hypothetically, someone you know very well and are very close to suddenly just stops talking to you one day, how would you feel?"

"Hnnn? That's a random question, but I guess… Hmm, it really depends on their personality, and what they mean by that action. I mean, for example, Ryo-kun, he often just ghosts me and stuff like that, but I'm used to it now. I know that that's just who he is, and so, I'm okay with it."

Alice continued. "However, if that silence isn't normal, as if a very amiable person suddenly just shut up, then I'd feel a bit suspicious, like, you know? Maybe something's wrong? And things like that."

Hisako nodded. "That makes sense."

_Well, pertaining to Hayama, he's not much of a talker anyway, but even so, if he went silent in our DMs without warning, I'd be suspicious, maybe I have offended him, or he was busy, or he doesn't like me anymore—_

_Wait. Wait. Wait?! Why am I thinking about him right now? Arghh?! It's his fault, texting me, chatting me, or sliding into my DMs like that?! Of course I'd be preoccupied with that! Yes! That's got to be it, nothing suspicious going on at all! After all, Erina is my number one priority right now!_

"Ne? Hisako-chaan? You seem to thinking of something rather interesting, hmm?"

"What nonsense, Alice-sama. It is simply in your imagination." Hisako replied with a flushed face.

Alice squinted at Hisako, she wanted to tease her some more, but she did not have the luxury of time for that. The autumn elections were coming soon anyway, and the Elite Ten had to prepare big time.

_Souma-kun really came home at a very good time didn't he? _

* * *

Souma woke up in an unfamiliar room that was pristine beyond comparison. The ceiling was white, and there was a faint scent of a very pleasant perfume. Or maybe it was just fancy air freshener, who knows? He lied on probably the most comfortable bed he had ever laid on in quite a while (and he has been to some rather fancy hotels), and he had a soft blanket draped over him.

The room was deathly silent, save for the light tapping sound of a soft keyboard. Souma turned to look at the source, and there he saw a bespectacled blonde beauty, clad in office clothing, completely engrossed in whatever important task it was that she was working on with her laptop.

He took a hand to his right cheek, and felt a bandage on it. He then felt his other cheek, and he came to the same discovery. Upon feeling the sensation of the bandages on his face, he sobered up and remembered all that went through prior to his laying there.

He vaguely remembered going to the clinic with Erina, then after having his face patched up by the in-house physician, he just suddenly blacked out.

_Jet-lag? Fatigue? Maybe both. _Souma thought.

Souma sat up on the bed, an action that was noticed by the other member of the room.

"You really shouldn't overdo it, you idiot." The blonde spoke up, without looking away from the screen of her computer.

"Thanks." Souma said, sincerely.

Erina released a tiny smile at that. _Now if only you were always this workable. And where did you learn to do that?_

"You had us worried, you know? You just suddenly collapsed after standing up." Erina said.

"Darn, must be quite surprising, my bad."

"Oh, you have no idea."

_To be precise, you stood up, but then lost your balance and instinctively embraced me to regain it, but we both just stumbled and fell on the clinic bed. And when I tried to push you off, you had already passed out._

_But you don't need to know that._ Erina thought.

It was probably in her top 5 most embarrassing moments ever. And yes, all 5 of them somehow involved Souma one way or another.

When the accident occurred, Erina was just about frozen stiff and ready to swoon at the moment. Fortunately, the physician got back and sorted out the situation.

She then informed the rest of the table of what happened to him, and the reactions they gave her were rather irritating.

"_Woah, are you sure you didn't just knock him out?" or "I know you're mad, sis, but don't get violent now!"_

Luckily, Souma's dad, Joichiro was on the scene. He apologized and felt very guilty for failing to take care of his son. He apparently just got so used to him being so independent and strong-willed that he forgot that his son was indeed still a human.

So, with both her grandfather's and, surprisingly, her mother's approval (more like insistence) Souma was to rest in the Nakiri manor until he got enough strength back to go attend Totsuki and go back to the rowdy Polar Star Dorm.

"So, how long was I out?" Souma interrupted Erina's thoughts with a question.

"It has just been one night as of now, however Saiba-sama, grandfather, and mother all insisted on you staying here and resting for at least a week. And personally, as long as you don't cause too much trouble, that would be fine by me."

"Well, damn, I don't think I can stay for a week in a place as posh as this, though."

"That's very rude, Yukihira-kun. We've even prepared a guest room for your use." Erina finally looked away from her laptop to glare at the annoying redhead.

"I know, I know, Nakiri. Geez, can't crack a joke can ya?"

Erina's glare worsened.

"Woah, woah… My cheeks aren't healed yet, so, take it easy on me, will ya?" Souma raised both hands up in a mock surrender.

"Hmph." Erina said as she went back to her work.

"That being said, why are you here though, Nakiri?"

"Yukihira-kun, this is my house."

"Yeah, I know that, but why are you here in the clinic?"

Erina froze. She hadn't thought about it too. After staying up until 3 am the previous night to read all of Souma's undelivered texts (and grinning like some weirdo in the process), Erina found herself becoming a bit impulsive.

She washed herself in the shower a bit longer than usual. She put on a little more of that mild Bulgari perfume than usual. She then opted to wear neat work clothes instead of her go-to light dress.

She then decided to do some of her work. However, she couldn't focus for some reason, so by sheer impulse she went to the clinic to see how Souma was doing. As time passed, she got so comfortable that she decided to just work there and then.

She hadn't prepared any excuses or alibis, so she chose the only other option.

She decided to be honest—

"I-is it bad? I just wanted to check on how you're doing, I mean, I heard that plebeians die easily of you don't take care of them, y-you know!"

—and then failed to do so.

_What am I saying?!_

Not only did she fail to be honest, she even insulted him, again!

At this point, Erina was fully expecting Souma to laugh, and sure enough he did.

It was still that same annoying, brash laugh he always had, but for some reason, Erina found it very pleasant to her ears.

_There must be something wrong with me! _She thought as she sighed.

"I thought you'd never say it! Haha, nothing does spell Totsuki more than a Nakiri yelling at you!" Souma said as he continued to laugh.

"How annoying…"

"Haaah, that was a good laugh, Nakiri." Souma said as he finally calmed down.

"Happy now?"

"Hmm? Well, yeah. Thank you." Souma said wholeheartedly as he stared into Erina's eyes.

Erina flushed as she beheld the sight.

Amber was intertwining with violet. As she stared into his eyes, she risked being consumed in them, in his gaze. For some reason, she could feel everything he went through abroad through that gaze, and it was making her chest well up with unfamiliar feelings.

She eventually caught herself and broke eye contact. Souma just snickered at her action.

_There it is again! Where on earth did he learn that? Why is he thanking me so sincerely?!_

"So, what are you working on?" Souma asked, interrupting Erina's inner turmoil. It seems that he was trying to shift the topic of their conversation.

"For your information, the Autumn Elections are coming. So I need to sort out these documents and e-mail all the relevant people." Erina straightened up at the shift of topic to a more serious one.

"Ah, I do owe you a lot of paperwork, don't I?"

"Not just "a lot" Yukihira-kun. But, I can't exactly have you work right now, so you should instead maximize this time in resting."

"Woah." Souma said, dumbfounded.

"What? Do you have a problem?"

"I never thought I'd ever hear you tell me to rest, Nakiri."

Erina huffed. "I'll have you know that I am a considerate person, Yukihira-kun. It just so happens that most of the time, you are not worthy of my consideration."

"But I am now? Why is that?" Souma teased.

Erina saw this as a challenge. Her competitive spirit was getting riled up within her as she sized up Souma. The faint feeling of embarrassment within her was suddenly flooded over as she prepared a retort.

"Because you have put yourself in danger, and as a person of such noble pedigree, I ought to help out those of lesser status around me." Erina said. It came out a bit more arrogant than she intended to, and what she said wasn't really her true view of the world, however, this was Souma she was having this exchange with. Erina Nakiri will never back down from him.

"Awh, so ya got some kind of rich girl etiquette thingy about it? Or won't you just admit that you missed me?" Souma said with his signature wide cocky grin, which looked funny when juxtaposed with his cheek bandages.

"You are getting ahead of yourself, Yukihira-kun. There is no way a first-rate chef like me will ever miss a third-rate chef such as you."

"You say that, but you probably haven't improved at all since we last met, since you probably just holed up in your office." Souma retorted. "And is it really okay to call your 1st Seat a "third-rate chef"?"

"Do not test me, Yukihira-kun. I repeat; there is no objective reason for me to miss a third-rate chef such as you." Erina stated as she crossed her arms under her chest and turned away from Souma.

The sight of one of her signature mannerisms filled Souma with nostalgia. And out of that overwhelming feeling of homesickness, Souma thoughtlessly spat out the first thing that came to his mind:

"Well, I miss you."

* * *

"But, you know, that was all on you, Joichirou." A tall, muscular man was sitting in a bar with Joichiro Saiba.

The man sported a neat buzz-cut, and seemed to be considerably troubled with the person beside him.

"Yeah, Tamako would kill me for this." Joichirou snickered.

The man disagreed. "Kill you? Oh no, that'd be too tame for her. She's a former gangster, and you know you don't mess with a gangster's kin."

"I'm her kin too though?"

"Yeah, you're kin through love, but not through blood. Her son, obviously, is through blood." The man stated matter-of-factly. "Add on a little bit of maternal instinct to that."

"So just killing me won't cut it?" Joichirou raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, she'll probably torture you. Skin you alive. Then slice your stomach open as she slowly but surely makes sure that you thoroughly suffer."

"Woah, never knew you had such a wild imagination." Joichirou said as he sipped his cocktail.

He took a moment of silence to utter a short prayer to Tamako, a genuine apology for failing to take care of their son.

Sensing the change in the atmosphere, the man stated something more serious. "Well, seriously though, you owe your kid. You owe it to Tamako to make it up to him."

"Well, I think I did, somehow."

"How?" The man, Doujima Gin, asked.

"I gave him a one-week ticket to stay in the Nakiri mansion. Who knows? Maybe he'll end up staying there for quite a while. Senzaemon likes him a lot."

"Senzaemon always had a soft spot for redheads." Gin joked, obviously referring to the hair color of the two Yukihiras.

Joichirou grinned. "You wouldn't believe it, but even Mana likes him."

"… You're right, I don't believe it. Or so I want to say, but this is Souma after all." Gin shook his head. His best friend's son was really something else.

"How'd he do it?" Gin said as he finished up his gin martini.

"The brat just served us an absurdity. Lamb sushi." Joichiro leaned back on his bar stool.

Gin laughed. "Must be in the genes."

"Yeah, but it's crazy though." Joichirou paused.

After heaving a considerable sigh, he continued. "He's probably the best chef in all of Totsuki, and dare I say it, Japan."

Gin's head snapped towards Joichirou's direction, utterly surprised with what he said. However, on Joichirou's face he saw an absolutely straight-laced expression, indicating that he wasn't just messing around this time.

"Are you sure that's not just your parental bias or something? And does that mean he finally beat you?"

Joichiro nodded. Then he said. "Who are you kidding, I'm not Mana. You'll know for yourself when you drop by for the Autumn Elections. Ask him to serve you up a dish."

Joichiro grinned at Gin. "You'll be blown off that crappy buzz-cut of yours."

The two men then resumed to their bickering, which consisted of Gin continuously complaining, and Joichirou continuously laughing.

But, after a while, both men sat in silence, contemplating what kind of future is in store for one Yukihira Souma.

* * *

To make up for the long absence, I decided to make this chapter extra long.

I also spent extra time editing certain stuff, and I decided to revamp my writing style too.

So I hope y'all like it. Read, review, and enjoy(?)

Next up, more of Souma's overseas shenanigans, and the spotlight finally shines back to Polar Star!

(Any grammatical/spelling corrections are welcome too. Leave a review.)


	4. Chapter 4

The Resurgence of Excellence

Chapter 4

_Disclaimer: I own neither SnS nor the cover image. I also own no considerable amount of money and/or possessions. Don't sue me, pretty please?_

* * *

"Intent, cooking is all about intent, Soma," said a bombshell of a woman as she passionately gazed at a pan filled with sautéed vegetables.

The woman had silky black hair and gorgeous blue eyes. Her immaculate, milky skin belied her advanced age. The same can be said about her body, as she has retained a very shapely and sultry, albeit petite, figure.

The woman, Anne-Sophie Pic, was renowned as one of, if not the greatest female chef in all of culinary history. And you would not deduce from her appearance and countenance that she was 50 years old with children who are already adults.

Countless chefs and chefs-in-training have come to her kitchen, named Restaurant Anne-Sophie, in Valence, France, to train with the superwoman of cooking.

Nearly all of them, regardless of gender and sexual orientation, have been bewitched by her beauty and charm. She was renowned for being an extremely passionate chef, and she is very vocal about her belief of intent being the secret recipe to success for any aspiring cook and restaurateur out there. As such, Anne-Sophie is very touchy-feely, and is not afraid to have a little bit of skin-ship with her trainees.

Souma, however, was completely unfazed. At first Anne-Sophie was surprised. She had never seen a man with this much determination and will in quite a while, apart from maybe her upperclassman, Puck, or even her master, Robuchon. She asked her employees to help her out and call out her clinginess when it was making her trainee uncomfortable, but it's been three days and Souma has not been flustered, not even once.

So Anne-Sophie took this as both a compliment and a challenge. Seeing this young man's drive, she decided that she will give him his time's worth of training.

Suffice to say, Souma was excellent. In just 3 hours he was completely in sync with her as a sous chef. In 14 hours he was already helping out in her kitchen. By the third day, he was basically 3rd in command in her kitchen, behind only the head chef, Rosie, and herself, the head consultant.

Even more impressive than that, even, is what he had done to poor Rosie. Rosie had always been the militaristic, prudish type. In great contrast to Anne-Sophie's alluring charm, Rosie had always been an immovable block of steel. Hence, it was incredibly impressive for such a woman as Rosie to have become fond of Souma.

Anne-Sophie was amused. However, she felt and knew that Souma was about to leave soon. He had gotten what he came for, which was training, and he was becoming restless. She knew she couldn't keep him there forever, and so she called him in to her office and decided to bestow him with her best advice.

"What do you see in this pan, Souma?" She lifted the pan near the redhead's face and asked.

"I see sautéed garlic, shallots, green pepper, thyme, and some rosemary. Avocado oil and whole fat Swiss butter as the sautéing catalyst." Souma replied tersely.

Anne-Sophie smiled. _Perfect as usual._

"Yes, that is correct, but that is not the point of this question. If anything, it's more figurative. Let me ask again: What do you see in this pan?"

Souma squinted. _Figuratively?_

"I guess I see the beginning of something absolutely delicious." Souma answered.

Anne-Sophie replied. "We're getting there. What else?"

"I see this delicious meal putting a smile on the face of whoever it's served to."

"Bingo." _Sharp. Way too sharp._ Anne-Sophie thought.

"To reiterate, my point is that intent is the foundation of cooking." Anne-Sophie continued to cook.

"Why am I cooking? To whom am I cooking for? What do I want them to feel when they eat this? The answers to all those questions point to your intent."

Souma nodded.

Anne-Sophie reached out her hand, and by reflex Souma handed her a wooden spoon.

She then used the spoon to expertly toss around the vegetables thoroughly for a few moments, and afterwards she poured white wine into the pot to deglaze the contents. She then covered it up with a lid and turned the stove to low heat.

She continued. "It can be to impress. It can be to cheer someone up. It can even be to show someone that you're better than they are. It all depends on the person and the situation. My point is, cook with intent."

"I think I understand." Souma washed his hands. He brought out some de-shelled shrimp from the cooler and brought it to the woman.

"Such a great student, Rosie took months to understand this, you know? During that time she always just cooked for the sake of cooking. It was like she was just performing some predetermined actions over and over, much too robotic for me." She mentioned.

Anne-Sophie gazed into Souma's eyes. It was a deep, sincere gaze. From an outsider's point of view, this staring contest was incredibly intimate, signified by the fact that there were less than 8 inches between the faces of the two chefs. But, there was absolutely nothing erotic or sensual about this stare. It was motherly—it was full of intent.

"Of course, you have to practice it. Before you can cook with intent, you have to first develop the skill of displaying your intent."

Anne-Sophie tucked a stray hair behind her ear.

"Stare into their eyes. Gaze into their soul. Connect with them, heart to heart, by any means. If there's no visual contact, relay the intent through your tone and speech," said Anne-Sophie as she dumped the shrimp into her now deglazed pan.

"Uh-huh." Souma replied, absorbing the chef's advice.

"This 'sincerity technique,' as Rosie likes to call it, is the first step to learning how to channel your intent into your cooking. And it's possibly the greatest lesson I can leave you with." Anne-Sophie smiled as she broke eye contact.

"I promise to practice it a lot." Souma said.

"I believe you will." Anne-Sophie replied as she finished her dish.

"Here, share this with Rosie. You'll be leaving soon, right? She's going to miss you." She added.

"Sure thing, your cooking is incredibly delicious anyways. Though I doubt Rosie will miss me an' all that, chef."

Anne-Sophie noticed Souma reverting back to casual speech. It seems that her serious mood likely made him tense up.

_I don't know if that counts as flustering him, but if it does, then I finally got him!_ She thought. Her ability to fluster trainees had been put in question the past few days, but she was happy she finally managed to shake this hunkering boulder of a man.

_I suppose it serves him well, though. He's never been flustered even when my piping hot celebrity patrons all flocked over him. And, Rosie's quite the looker too, and yet he's completely unfazed, truly an interesting young man. _

The door to the office opened as a ponytailed brunette walked into the room. The woman was in her early 20s, and had a very stoic expression on her otherwise goddess-like face. She had dazzling green eyes, and pearl white skin. It was Rosie, head chef of Restaurant Anne-Sophie. However, the moment the stern brunette saw Souma, her face comically blushed.

"Ah! Yo, Rosie, good timing. I was just about to look for ya. Come on, Chef here prepared us a snack! Let's have it with that really tasty apple cider in the fridge. Do we still have some of that?" Souma energetically waltzed to her direction, carrying Anne-Sophie's dish on his right hand as he put his left hand on Rosie's shoulder, earning a yelp from the prudish woman.

Rosie, unable to resist, resorted to plead to her teacher for help, but to no avail. Anne-Sophie was simply smiling at the whole situation, and allowed her head chef to be swept away into la la land as they both exited her office.

* * *

Polar Star Dormitory during lunchtime was always a lovely place. As you would expect from students from a culinary institution, the necessity of preparing and eating food during the noon hours of day was a good time to sneak in some training. Sometimes, it was also a good time to experiment, goof off, or have fun.

The dormitory's large kitchen was brimming full with numerous students, and those who were not in the main kitchen were making do with the small built-in kitchens in their rooms.

The variety of dishes being prepared and cooking techniques being displayed was impressive. To the untrained eye, it would seem as if this were a cultural exchange fair. To the gourmet critic's eye, this was heaven, paradise.

In one such dorm room, atop its relatively rudimentary built-in kitchen, the sound of chopping could be heard. It was Takumi Aldini, who had taken the liberty of preparing a lunch dish that he and his brother, Isami, could partake in.

The two Italians decided to lodge in the dormitory for their third year to save up expenses. It was, after all, much cheaper to stay in this dorm than to rent an apartment in the expensive area around Totsuki. Another reason was that this place allowed them to constantly sharpen their knives against fellow Totsuki students on the daily, which was a big plus for them.

As Takumi was cooking, he also made sure to make enough so that he could share (and compare) his dish, and by extension, his cooking skills, to the other denizens of the dorm.

He was a lot more animated than usual, his brother Isami observed. These past few months his brother was erratic, to say the least. However, Takumi had stabilized these past few days and is cooking with much excitement today.

The reason is because today will be the day that they get to meet Souma.

They heard of the news of his arrival to the Nakiri manor, and all the shenanigans that followed. They are aware of his current situation, wherein he will stay there for a week, and they accepted it.

The residents of the dorm all then agreed to visit Souma, but during different days so that they will not overwhelm the tired chef.

And today just so happens to be the day that Takumi and Isami visit.

After taking the lengthy hike down from Polar Star to the closest Totsuki gate, the two brothers then called for a cab.

Apparently, the Nakiri manor was in a gated community, and public utility vehicles are not allowed inside, barring special exceptions. The Aldinis would have to walk from the gate of the area to the gate of the manor itself, however, they did not mind.

The taxi made sure to avoid heavy traffic in order to save time, which was valuable to the Aldinis, but more so to the taxi driver. The faster he can pick up and drop off passengers, the more he earns.

In a little over 20 minutes the Aldinis found themselves at the gate of the community, and after a brisk 10-minute walk, they were right at the main gate of the Nakiri manor.

After a bout of rock-paper-scissors, Isami unfortunately had to be the one to press that imposing doorbell.

_Ting. _And the doorbell rang.

After a few moments, an electronic voice answered them, "Welcome to the Nakiri manor, please state your identity and business."

"U-um, I-Isami Aldini and Takumi Aldini here," Isami said, clearly indicating his nervousness with his voice.

"And your business is?"

"To visit Yukihira Souma."

"Yukihira… Souma…" The electronic voice paused. Sounds of shuffling could be heard as the person behind the voice was likely perusing some documents.

"Ah! Souma-san! He's the honorary guest staying in the manor right now. I see. Well then, excuse us for being so inhospitable, but according to security protocol we need to do a baggage check on you, as well do a pat-down."

Isami replied. "That's understandable. It's alright."

"Thank you. Please wait a few minutes, security is headed there now."

Isami and Aldini sighed. Security was tight, and that was understandable, since this is the first time they've ever visited the manor, and that they aren't well acquainted with neither the homeowners nor the staff. Still, for all this security, the thought that one Yukihira Souma was allowed free reign in these grounds made them doubt if the Nakiri family was truly safe.

The Italians shuddered in fear of the scenario of Souma feeding the delicate Nakiri palates with his dangerous experiments.

After a few minutes, tall, muscular men dressed in sharp-looking black suits came over to the gate.

The Aldinis' expected the huge metal gate to open, but upon realizing that they had no vehicles with them, they realized that only the metal door at the side will be unlocked.

The security personnel unlocked the metal door using some high-tech apparatus, and the heavy solid metal door hinged with surprising grace and ease on its sturdy bolts.

As announced by the electronic voice, the guards performed a pat-down and luggage check on the two Aldinis, making sure to be very thorough. Once the security measures were complete, they saw Hisako Arato heading their way.

"Aldini-kun—ah, I suppose you are both Aldini-kun. Then, is it alright if I call you Takumi-kun and Isami-kun?

Takumi replied. "That's fine. Arato-san."

The Aldini brothers and Hisako were on good terms, however since they do not really hang out with each other much, they weren't that close, and so there was almost a business-like friendliness between them. However, this wasn't a façade for the sake of pleasantries, but they genuinely respected each other.

Both parties acknowledged mentally that getting to know the other party more wouldn't be a bad deal at all. After all, they were all usually very composed and polite people. It was just that one cheeky redhead has a talent for riling up people like them.

"I suppose you are here to visit Yukihira-kun?" Isami swore he felt his brother twitch beside him as Hisako mentioned the redhead's name.

"Y-yes. I suppose he needs to hear our… numerous complaints." Takumi replied sheepishly.

Hisako flashed a knowing smile. "Okay then, follow me this way. He is currently staying in a detached guest house, in the main suite. Senzaemon-sama was considerate enough to provide it to him."

The trio started walking.

"It's a good thing Senzaemon-sama is always coolheaded. If he was hot-tempered, Souma wouldn't last a day here," chided Takumi.

"Well, Erina-sama— Erina, excuse me, is the one whipping him into shape." Hisako added.

The trio laughed. "I can only imagine how pissed she must have been when they met." Takumi said.

"She pinched the idiot's face so hard he had to be sent to the clinic."

"I don't exactly see Nakiri-san as someone who would do that, but then again I understand her frustration. As headmaster she must have been under a lot of stress, so it's perfectly understandable."

Hisako was about to mention her mistress's and the redhead's shenanigans in the clinic the other day, and the fact that the two kept arguing like an old married couple, but then she surmised that that information ought to remain hidden.

Isami took a gamble. "I bet that—even if Nakiri-san would never admit it—that she missed him."

Then, silence followed. Isami was afraid he said that joke in bad taste, but soon thought otherwise as the silence was broken by the pinkette, who started giggling.

"I can't really say much, since I have to maintain Erina-sama— Erina's dignity, but yes. She most definitely did."

Once more, the trio giggled.

After a few more minutes of friendly small talk, they finally arrived at the guest house were Souma was staying.

They all expected the redhead to be holed up inside, but surprisingly, and almost fittingly, they saw the supposed-to-be-exhausted redhead doing calisthenics in the guest house's garden.

Even more surprising than the redhead, however, was the presence of the master of the manor, Nakiri Senzaemon. The patriarch seemed to have a pleasant time as he appeared to be doing the same calisthenics exercises as the redhead was, albeit with much more expertise and vigor.

The two men seemed to be enjoying each other's company, as they were having a pleasant workout on the cool, shaded garden.

Sensing that the two Aldini's were at a loss for what to say, the pinkette took charge of the situation. She cleared her throat to notify the two men of their presence.

"Ehem, Senzaemon-sama, Yukihira-kun, it seems you are having fun."

"Oh! Hisako-kun, indeed, we are having a good time." Senzaemon said.

"Yah, gramps right here is amazing. How can you do all of this stuff at your age? You're awesome, gramps!"

"Hoho, why thank you for the compliments."

_Gramps_.Hisako flinched. Souma always had a talent for being rude and not getting in trouble for it. In fact, it even seemed that Senzaemon-sama liked Souma's casualness around him.

"Forgive me for interrupting you, Senzaemon-sama, but Yukihira-kun has guests over." Hisako continued.

Senzaemon and Souma noticed the Aldinis as they made their presence known.

"Pay it no heed, Hisako-kun, in fact, we were just about to finish. Go on, Souma, entertain you guests. They must have missed you." Senzaemon said as he wiped his sweat and proceeded to clean up.

The old man then smiled at the younglings. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I am going to continue my workout at the basement gym. Just call for me if needed, Hisako-kun."

"Darn, I don't think he gets tired, even at that age." Souma remarked.

Hisako sighed. "Don't be so rude, Yukihira-kun. Senzaemon-sama is a hardworking individual, that's why. Well, I shall also take my leave now. I take it that you know the way back, Takumi-kun and Isami-kun?"

"Yes." Isami replied.

"Okay, have a nice day, Hishoko!" Souma said teasingly, earning a glare from the pinkette.

"Haha. I swear those two are so alike despite not being blood-related. Nakiri's rubbing off on her pretty bad eh." Souma murmured, referring to the pinkette and her mistress.

Then, turning to the Italians, Souma showed his familiar grin, and said, "So, Takumi and Isami, how'd ya been?"

Isami was about to answer on behalf of them both, but his brother beat him to the chase.

"You… you…" Takumi started.

"Yes, it's me." Upon hearing Souma's sarcastic reply, Takumi burst.

"You imbecile! Where the hell have you been?!" Takumi said as he shook Souma frantically by the shoulders.

Souma was bobbing forward and backward with surprising velocity, and Isami couldn't help but worry that the redhead might get a whiplash injury.

Souma's hair was waving back and forth dramatically as if they were reeds being swept by typhoon-scale winds, and on his face was an expression of amusement, and slight hints of dizziness.

Souma grabbed Takumi's arms and pushed them apart, removing the enraged Italian's grip from him.

"Calm down, Aldini. Why don't you chill like Isami over there, yeah? As for where I've been, well, I've been to too many places so I can't say. But, you're supposed to know that already, I texted you."

"Yeah, you texted me the continent you were in, but never the place! What is wrong with you?! How reassuring would a text of 'I'm in America right now' be?!" Takumi said, almost hysterically.

"Awh, you missed me?" Isami froze. This was bad. This was his brother's trigger word. He needed to step in before Takumi stabbed Souma with a fork or something.

But, the violent bought he expected never came, only to be replaced by haughty puff. "No, not really."

Isami's gut lurched._ That's a lie, aniki. We both know that's a lie._

"I was just worried about our mezzaluna. We can't have you damaging or losing it now, we haven't even settled the score!"

Souma smirked. It was the same smirk, but somehow, it felt different. Before, the smirk was infuriating, as if mocking the person seeing it. But now, it was intimidating. His smirk exerted a pressure that no one would have expected from him. It was filled with an aura that wanted you to challenge him, but at the same time made you fear a defeat that seemed to be imminent.

"Heh. I don't think ya'll ever settle the score with me, Aldini. At least not as you are now." Souma said in a playful tone.

The brothers were instantly riled up. As usual, Takumi was filled with an intense passion to cook and to prove him wrong. However, an uncanny invisible force told him that what Souma said is true.

_Just what did this imbecile learn out there? _Takumi thought.

Isami saw the situation start heading to a possible shokugeki, and out of consideration for the tired redhead, as well as to enjoy this time reuniting with him, he decided to steer the conversation.

"Now, now, aniki, Souma-kun is still quite tired, you know? I know he didn't exactly leave with the best manners, but he's back. We ought to just have a nice chat over the food that we prepared, right?"

"Yah, Aldini. You always act like you have a worm in your butt." Souma teased.

"How disgusting! But, well, fine. Here." Takumi handed to Souma the tray containing the Aldini's welcome-home dish.

"Woah, some fancy pasta you have here. Thanks a bunch guys! I was just starting to get hungry."

Souma partly opened the package and inspected the contents with his senses.

"This will do well with… some good ol' apple cider! I got a whole bunch from France, wanna try some?" Souma said as he invited the brothers into the guest house that was lent to him.

"I swear it's going to blow your socks off!"

"We'll see about that, Yukihira." Takumi said as he and Isami entered the house.

_We'll see about that indeed._ Takumi repeated to himself.

* * *

"Well, I miss you." Souma carelessly blurted out.

Immediately upon hearing the redhead's unlikely admittance, Erina's face flushed all the way up to her ears with a brilliant red.

The blonde was turned away from Souma, so Souma couldn't see her frantic expression, save for her warm red ears. Her arms situated under her bosom flinched, and were desperately covering her embarrassment from the redhead's scrutinizing gaze.

It almost seemed as of Souma was investigating Erina, and it did not help out in cooling off her blush.

"You're acting weird Nakiri." Souma said with furrowed brows as he bit his lower lip.

Erina frowned at his statement, and replied, "I-I don't need to hear that from you, Yukihira-kun."

_I-idiot. After saying something like that so carelessly, you then act like it's my fault?!_

"Hmm. Well, whatever. Just let me check the paperwork. I promise I won't overdo myself this time." Souma said after he closed his eyes.

Erina hesitated. She knew Souma well enough to know that the redhead doesn't know when to stop, so she didn't trust him with his own wellbeing. However, seeing Souma's insistence with helping out with the paperwork, she decided to consider.

There was just one thing she had to ascertain before that.

"Why are you so fixated on doing paperwork? I thought you disliked it? You barely did any of this back when you will still here." Erina asked with genuine confusion.

Souma did not answer immediately. He stared off into the wall behind Erina as a look of contemplation graced his face.

He then smiled a gentle smile and shook his head lightly, as if he were an old man reminiscing of his good old days.

"Well, it's something like an apology. I mean, even I know it would be a pain in the ass to pick up after someone else's slack, so yeah. It may just be pride or something, but I wanna make it up to ya."

Erina's eyes widened at Souma's newfound maturity. That unfamiliar, warm feeling started spreading within her chest all over again, and she had to resist the urge to smile uncontrollably.

The redhead that had influenced her to come out of her posh, princess-like shell and truly grow and flourish as a person is growing and flourishing himself. Erina felt a surge of pride within her, not the usual selfish pride she always held as a Nakiri, but rather the kind of pride a mother would hold over her son.

But even that was a bit off. It was more like the kind of pride a princess would feel at her bravest knight being victorious in battle, or a lover's pride at their partner becoming a better person.

Erina pushed those thoughts to the back of her head. She allowed a fraction of a sweet smile to show on her face, and then abruptly tried to put on a serious façade.

"H-hmph. If that's what you desire, then so be it. However, I forbid you to do any paperwork without my supervision. I need to make sure the quality of your work is befitting of Totsuki Academy, and also to…" Erina trailed off.

Souma couldn't quite get the last part, so he asked. "What?"

Erina gathered her remaining dignity and forced her words to come through. "T-to, to make sure you don't push yourself too hard! I, I don't trust your ability to manage yourself, so if you're going to do work, I will have to supervise you."

"Aren't you busy though?" Souma asked with a coy expression.

Erina huffed. "Of course I am. That's why I will be working at the same time. You will have to do your work quietly and quickly, without interrupting me with my own work."

"Alright. Does that mean I'll have to go with you when you do your taste-testings?"

Erina wanted to reprimand Souma for that absurd question. The obvious answer was: "of course not." But, the more she dwelled on it, the more appealing it appeared to a certain corner of her mind.

Erina's taste testing sessions were always very mundane and boring. She knew there was a risk associated with bringing along this ticking time bomb of a boy, but it would bring about a great change of pace.

Erina's mind was divided into two. One part, the vast majority, said that Souma would obviously be a detriment to her taste-testings. The other, more minor part absolutely screamed at her to take this chance.

Obviously, the majority won out and Erina reluctantly rejected his notion.

"N-no." She said.

Souma's reaction did not change in the slightest, his face betrayed no disappointment and he made a snort, as if to say that her answer was to be expected.

Erina frowned within her heart. She could not fully reject him, after all.

"Well, maybe sometimes I c-could invite you. Even though you are a t-third-rate chef, you at least still have a tongue. It might not be so b-bad. But now is a bad time! Okay!" Erina said, with each sentence becoming more and more senseless and frantic.

Souma gave a calm reply. "Sure sure. I don't know why you're so worked up over this, but sure." He then glanced at Erina's laptop. "So, need help with that?"

Erina, seeing Souma's attention focused on her computer, shook her head.

"Not exactly, however I do plan to delegate this to you, once you're okay."

Souma tried to scoot over, but he was surprised as his fatigued body refused to listen to him. Erina immediately noticed this and stood up to walk to his side, clutching her laptop under her left arm, as her right arm landed on Souma's shoulder.

She didn't know what spurred her actions on, but at that moment it felt exactly like the right thing to do.

"Ouch. I guess I can't move that well, eh."

Erina narrowed her eyes at the boy. "Of course you can't. This is what I meant by you not knowing your limits."

She was surprised at how gentle she was as she nudged Souma to lie back down on the slightly elevated backrest of his bed.

After massaging her forehead with her right hand, she heaved a considerable sigh. "I presume you wanted to see what I was working on?"

Souma affirmed her. "Yeah, if I'm gonna be continuing that, might as well see what you're doing with it."

"Fine. But don't move. I'll be the one to get closer." Erina's blubbering, embarrassed self has completely vanished as her assertive, all-business demeanor took over.

This was just how Erina is when work is involved. It just goes to show the blonde's innate leadership capabilities as a Nakiri.

Without thinking too deeply about it, Nakiri sat on the edge of his bed, and placed her laptop on its namesake: the top of her lap.

Souma did not have the strength to stand tall, but he could at least scoot closer to Erina.

"Nakiri, I still can't see it, ya know? Your back is in the way."

Erina felt a vein pop. "I'm doing all this for you and all you do is complain, that's so you, Yukihira-kun."

Souma simply laughed at her. "Heh, feisty as ever, aren't ya? I'll try get even closer, so don't tell me I didn't warn you."

And, true to his word, Souma did scoot even closer to Erina. It was at this point that Erina started to become self-conscious again as she felt her cheeks and the tips of her ears become warm.

However, clinging onto the excuse that this was for work, she allowed that nagging portion of her mind to enjoy this moment.

"Yosh, I can see it now. So, mind explaining it to me?" Souma suddenly said to her ear.

Erina had to force herself to resist the urge to scream. She knew Souma was close, but she didn't know he would be that close.

Erina sat on the edge of Souma's bed, facing away from him, with her laptop on her lap. Souma scooted over so that he could see her laptop, and they somehow ended up in that position.

_This is for work, for work!_ Was the excuse Erina was giving herself in case someone saw what they were doing.

It felt as if she was doing something illegal with the redhead, although she knew perfectly well that it wasn't so.

However, she had a feeling that she would permit no other male to get this close to her, so at the very least, this moment was special.

For the sake of "productivity" she decided to push on with the explanation.

The rest of their conversation proceeded surprisingly well. When the initial embarrassment (mostly from Erina's side) subsided, the two found it eerily comfortable to be with each other, let alone to be that close.

Souma was close enough to the crook of her neck that if he lowered his head, he would be resting his chin on her shoulder. Erina was close enough that if she were to lean her head back, it would rest on Souma's sturdy chest.

Gradually, however, these thoughts were drowned out by the task that they had to do in hand.

Erina noticed that she had started to speak very softly. Souma was very attentive and gave words of understanding beside her ear, almost as if he was whispering lullabies, so she became comfortable.

When she finally finished explaining the task and there was no longer a reason for her to remain that close to Souma, she was assaulted by a feeling of disappointment.

She frantically racked her brain for other work topics to talk about so that they can stay in that position longer, but each topic was heavy and required actual work to be done, which would simply prompt her away from him.

In a desperate last-ditch effort, she decided to comment on what the redhead carelessly blurted out earlier.

"Y-yukihira-kun, a-about earlier, did you mean it?" She said in a very feeble voice.

Instinctively, Souma leaned closer to her to hear her, to the point that Erina could feel his breath on her ear, and his broad chest went into contact with her back.

"Earlier? What do you mean?" He said. Because he was so close to her, she could feel the vibrations within his thorax as he spoke. She could pick up on the subtle bass of his voice that signified his manliness. It was all making her extremely fidgety, but since she had decided to go this far, she stayed.

"About you missing me?"

Souma giggled. "Oh that! Haha. Of course, Nakiri. I missed everyone at Totsuki."

Souma's answer both overjoyed and disappointed Erina. Souma meant it, therefore he did miss her, but he mentioned "everyone" which meant that Erina probably wasn't anything special.

_Everyone, huh. _Finally, the minority within Erina's head burst forth, having been put to silence for too long.

The impulsiveness that brought her to the clinic in the first place took hold of her once more, and she asked.

"Who did you miss most?"

The question's ulterior intentions were extremely blatant to the outside observer. The close contact has melted away Totsuki's Ice Princesses' cold exterior, and now her shoujo manga-riddled, affection deprived brain took control.

Luckily for her, Souma did not pick up on it, a fact that would absolutely frustrate any socially adept individual, especially considering that Erina's mood absolutely rested on his hands. His answer could make or break the sparks that were kindling Erina's heart.

Fortunately, Souma had learned a valuable lesson from Chef Anne-Sophie.

_When asked for a "most," you can't always say "everyone." Because doing that is like cheating. No one in the world is that noble. If you are to show your intent, it has to be specific. Who do you like most? Who do you want to impress most? Things of that nature, Souma, you need to think about those. _

And so Souma thought. Sure, he missed his dad, but he's used to not seeing him. He missed the Polar Star Dorm, but he was always video chatting them. He missed Megumi, Takumi, Nikumi, Alice, Hishoko, Hayama, and even Ryo, but they also always felt connected to him. He didn't exactly "miss" a lot of time with them. As for Isshiki-senpai, they were texting like they were dating!

There was, however, one he felt like he left, the one he "missed." The one that had him thinking of things like, "Ah, I bet she'll be knocked off her socks when she tastes this." Or "Ah, I bet she'll definitely say this is delicious."

He realized that the reason they were so disconnected was mostly because of his stupidity, but what's done is done. They had technically missed 8 months of contact, while the only thing the other guys missed was his physical presence.

And that individual was this blonde in front of him.

He raised a mental salute to his beautiful mentor, and decided to say what he concluded within his mind.

"Well, to be honest, it was you." He said, softly and sincerely beside the blonde's ear.

The tickling sensation of Souma's cool breath, along with the relaxing baritone in his voice, was all overshadowed by the contents of what he said.

As such, he felt the blonde jerk her body abruptly. He was slightly worried that he said something to irritate her, but then again, he always says something that irritates her, so he decided to calm down.

What he didn't expect however, was the blonde leaning back against him, placing her back and his chest in full contact with each other.

And even more surprising than that, even, was the fact that she turned her head to the side and leaned it back, effectively snuggling him.

Erina had an unreadable expression on her face, and Souma couldn't see her eyes as they were blocked from his sight by his own neck, that she was snuggling.

Souma half-wondered if she was going to bite his neck out of irritation, but a few more moments of this extremely sudden and yet comfortable contact told him otherwise.

He could feel his heart thumping within his chest, but he knew it wasn't because he was nervous or pumped up.

He was embarrassed. Erina had done the one thing both Chef Anne-Sophie and Rosie, with all their allure, failed to do.

Erina then silently whispered to his ear in a very sweet-sounding voice.

"… Since you were so honest, I'll admit it, I missed you too. A lot."

And upon finishing that sentence, she darted up and ran towards the door, exited the clinic with a flash, and slammed the door behind her.

Souma was stuck there speechless as a rare semblance of a blush appeared on his patched-up cheeks.

_Chef Sophie didn't tell me anything about this!_

It took him a few moments to recompose himself, and seeing that Erina would likely not come back, he pulled out his phone to ask Google about what exactly happened there in that situation.

Erina, on the other hand, was a tomato-red mess. After she slammed the door of the clinic behind her, her knees gave out from beneath and she slumped to the ground on the entrance of the clinic, leaning her weight on the door, as if trying to keep Souma (who can't exactly stand) from exiting.

Her entire body was quivering and every brain cell in her head was screaming at her, some calling her stupid, and some calling her a genius.

Her heart was violently thumping in her chest as she breathed erratically. She cupped her still flushed face into her shaky hands as she tried to hold back an extremely girly squeal that was unfitting of her reputation.

After a few minutes of composing herself, she ran towards her room, zipping past concerned maids and butlers. As she reached her room, she grabbed her largest pillow and squeezed it between her arms like there was no tomorrow. She buried her face into its softness and as she felt herself start to swoon with what she just did.

After a few more moments, Erina lay in her bedroom, fainted from the extreme boldness of what she did. It would only be later during lunchtime that Hisako would discover the aftermath of the ordeal.

Of course, in a mansion with as many staff as theirs, there were witnesses, and Hisako, upon seeing the fainted mess her mistress was, and the confused Souma frantically reading wikihow articles, she managed to piece the story together.

_Goodness, these two are harder to deal with than I thought. _Hisako resignedly thought to herself as she reported the situation to an extremely amused Senzaemon and a very suspiciously satisfied Mana.

She already knew that Senzaemon was fond of the Yukihiras, so her surprise was directed instead to the usually strict and stoic Mana.

_I thought Mana-sama would get mad that Souma is getting so close to Erina-sama— Erina, considering the fact that Erina's been sheltered from close male contact since her childhood. Is she planning something?_

Little did Hisako know that her guess was absolutely on the money.

* * *

Daaamn that was tough. Sorry for the late update. I have just experienced the dreaded writer's block, but I have gotten it over enough to deliver you guys another chapter.

This chapter was originally about to feature more than this, but the individual segments got so long so I cut it off here.

Anyway, read, review, and enjoy(?)


	5. Chapter 5

The Resurgence of Excellence

Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I don't own SnS, heh.

* * *

Warning! This is mostly a flashback chapter. It may be a bit confusing.

* * *

-Ω¥Ω-

"_Do not go there, lad. If you value your life and your pride as a chef, do not go there."_

"_What if I do go?"_

"…_Then, you will die."_

* * *

-Ω¥Ω-

Souma was supposed to be in LAX right now. Note the key phrase, "supposed to be."

The reason being that instead of standing in the chaotic urban maze that was LAX, Souma was still sitting idly on the floor of his 3.9-star Airbnb.

It was the same floor, same knives, same whetstone, and same old routine. Sharpening his knife had become his form of meditation. Whenever the cogs within his mind would toss and turn, his body instinctively performed this action.

For this reason, the whetstone Souma had been using since last week was considerably more worn down than it should have been. Souma's favorite knife, however, was perfectly sharp and clean, so it was tucked away within its knife case. Souma was instead sharpening a specially-shaped meat carving knife that he received when he worked at a Cajun restaurant back at New Orleans.

After everything he said to Chef Puck and his friends about going home and booking a flight back, suddenly he found himself suspended in hesitance and indecisiveness.

It wasn't because he suddenly did not feel homesick anymore. He still was, and even more so, in fact. It was just that he felt terribly incomplete and discontented.

_Why? I've been to everywhere. Like, literally. So why do I feel unfulfilled?_

Souma crunched up his eyebrows. It was a troubling crossroad, indeed.

_Chef Puck was precise. Chef Flay was humble. Chef Gordon was intense. Chef Sophie was intentional._

_They should be enough, right? And yet what's this feeling I'm gettin'?_

Souma had been exposed, even if only briefly, to nearly every single cooking method under the sun. Even those that he missed, he felt he could just go back some other time to experience them. But something was nagging him. It was an indelible feeling of incompleteness…

Souma gazed outside his window, and there he saw a small hill. It wasn't anything crazy like the peaks of the Andes or the Himalayas. It was but a small, humble hill, but when it was placed in the great flatlands that the town was on, it seemed extremely tall and massive.

Souma widened his eyes. That was it.

He'd been everywhere, everywhere except the summit.

He'd never visited the summit of cooking: the greatest, most complete chef in the world.

Among his mentors, he first thought it was Gordon. He was wrong, Gordon himself said so.

He then thought it was Puck. Again, he was wrong.

The incompleteness within him was his heart of heart's desire to catch a glimpse of _glory._

Pure, unadulterated might; cooking in its finest form.

The problem was, if it was neither Puck nor Gordon—the two best chefs Souma's ever worked with—then Souma did not know who it was.

And so Souma decided to make a call. Not to Puck, he just left their place declaring he wanted to go home, so it would be embarrassing.

Instead he dialed the Chef of Hell's number.

The phone rang once, twice, thrice…

Finally, after a good minute of ringing, a familiar snappy British accent greeted Souma.

"What the fucking hell is you problem, you twat, do you even know what time it is?"

Souma, in all his obliviousness, replied matter-of-factly. "Well, it's 9 am. I didn't know you slept in like this, Chef."

"Bloody hell. Wherever the fuck you are, Yukihira, you are definitely not anywhere near the British Isles, so don't give me that bullshit." The snarky chef replied.

"Sorry about that, Chef." Souma said in a heartfelt tone, utilizing the "sincerity technique" Chef Anne-Sophie taught him.

"…What the fuck is up with you. If you want to apologize, do it by ending this stupid farce. I've got 13 meetings to go to today." Chef Ramsay said as he motioned to end the call.

"But wait, Chef! I have a question." Souma said.

Gordon sighed. He seemed to be exhausted, and could not sustain his hot-tempered speech. "What is it? Make it quick."

Souma was surprised by the lack of force in Chef Ramsay's reply, but he continued nonetheless. "Who is the greatest chef ever?"

Souma could practically feel Gordon massaging his temples through the call as the Chef replied. "What is up with you? You call an overworked man at 3 am in the morning and ask him such a ridiculous, childish question."

"But there has to be an answer right? Come on, Chef, please?" Souma said, again utilizing the sincerity technique.

_I think I'm overusing this technique, and for the wrong reasons. _Souma thought.

"The hell is up with you." Chef Ramsay replied.

And then, an uneasy silence followed.

Souma thought Chef Ramsay had bailed on him, so he was about to speak up, only to be interrupted by the answer to his question.

"Joel Robuchon. He was my master, one hell of a master at that. The media, the culinary world, the gourmet world, hell, even those crappy noir cunts all view him as the greatest. It's just fact."

"Wow, seems like a great person." Souma said.

_So he's the pinnacle of cooking. I mean, if Chef Gordon says he is, then he most likely is._ Souma thought.

"Dumb prick, he's no 'great person,' he's literally the greatest chef of all fucking time!"

Gordon seemed to speak from experience. He continued.

"He has served hordes of important people. The number of decorated men and women he'd fed could fill up a city. And do you wonder why even the noir chefs consider him the greatest? Because he was really the only one the biggest, most infamous crime lords trusted with their food. Al Capone, Pablo Escobar; to name a few."

"Oh, so where is he right now?" Souma animatedly asked. He finally had a chance to scratch that growing itch within his heart.

Gordon grumbled for a few moments, as if he were checking something, and then answered. "He is in Paris, inside his favorite—not most acclaimed, but favorite—restaurant."

"Can I go there?"

"…" Another pregnant silence followed. Souma had never heard his headstrong mentor be so taciturn and timid before. Maybe it was all this talk about this "Robuchon" fellow.

"L'atelier de Joel Robuchon." Gordon murmured with reluctance. Almost fear, even.

The iron chef remained silent for an uncomfortable few minutes. Almost as if he was experiencing a bout of PTSD.

Whatever it was, it must have been bad enough to reduce the Chef of Hell into a stuttering, mumbling mess.

"Ah bloody hell—brings back memories." Gordon said.

Souma was baffled by Gordon's unexpected behavior and, unable to respond with anything, he opted to remain silent.

Gordon heaved a defeated sigh. Then he chuckled, not his usual loud, condescending one, but a very self-deprecating chuckle.

He then broke out into laughter

"…Chef?"

"Do not go there, lad. If you value your life and your pride as a chef, do not go there." Gordon spoke with finality.

"What if I do go?" Souma prodded.

"…Then, you will die."

Gordon hung up immediately after that.

* * *

-Ω¥Ω-

"Puck."

"Gordon, what's the matter? You don't usually call at this time, aren't you supposed to be resting?"

"It's about Souma. That lunatic chap, he wants to go to Master's place!"

At first Puck was surprised at the mention of Souma's name. Not because he did not expect Gordon to know the child, Gordon had told him that Souma stinted at his kitchen a while back, but because the brat told Puck that he was heading home just the other day.

There was, however, a more pressing issue than the matter of Souma's homecoming.

It was a matter of life or death as a chef. If Restaurant Ramsay was hell and Restaurant Wolfgang was heaven, then L'atelier de Joel Robuchon was Ginnuggagap, or the void, or the abyss, or the nethermost regions of accursed space.

And Chef Robuchon was its dark lord.

It wasn't a place just anyone would go to. Hence Puck lost his composure and blurted out a cussword in response.

"…Holy German shit."

"Holy shit indeed. What's worse is I don't think we can stop him."

"Will he be okay? I mean, Master has mellowed out these past few years, but…"

"Well, we'll provide all the support we can, which isn't much, but if he crashes and dies, then he crashes and dies. It would be regrettable, but if he couldn't handle a mellowed-out Master, then that means the brat only amounts to that much."

"Indeed, after going through us, I suppose approaching Master was inevitable. And what if he survives?"

"Well, then that's one more to the gang. Call Sophie and Flay. I'll call Sir Ducasse. We need to hold a video conference soon."

"All right. Do we tell Master beforehand?"

"Do you want a pre-informed Master sitting cross-legged in a chair waiting for you to arrive?"

"Absolutely not."

"Then it would be better if we didn't. Judging by that brat's talent, Master would probably be able to sniff him out. We should, however, inform Sir Ducasse. That brat's going to need all the help he can get."

"All right. I'll contact you when I've informed the two. Good bye for now."

"Okay."

* * *

-Ω¥Ω-

"Okay, I understand it all, senior Puck." Sophie sighed as she ended the call.

"Haaah. I knew it would come to this, but I can't help but worry." She continued.

Sophie glanced at the three Michelin stars all proudly displayed at the architectural crux of her office.

These stars represented years of hard work and dedication. They represented the way Anne-Sophie bulldozed through the patriarchal culinary world during her time through her revolutionary philosophy and transcendent skill.

She had shaken the status quo so much that now women were as welcome, or perhaps even favored, over men in the kitchen.

Anne-Sophie was truly a pioneer.

And yet she only had 9 of these stars.

Her good friend and fellow disciple, Flay, recently lost all of his stars by virtue of his humble and down-to-earth beliefs, something that seems to irritate those of the gourmet world.

However, Sophie knew that it would only be a matter of time before Flay breaks through these societal barriers and titillates the status quo once more.

She then turned her thoughts to her seniors, not in age, but in accomplishment and skill: Puck and Ramsay.

And yet Puck only had 15 stars, and Ramsay only had 17.

Those measly numbers, though laughable, are 4th and 3rd in the world in terms of the highest number of Michelin stars accrued.

2nd would be her mentor's friend and pseudo-assistant, Sir Ducasse, with 19.

Obviously the one with the most would be her mentor, the Dark Lord of the culinary world.

The number was 33.

Eleven restaurants sprinkled across the globe. Every single one was an epitome of cuisine. Every single one was top standard. Every single one had the crowning accomplishment of holding three Michelin stars.

One could surely imagine the amount of grit, tenacity, willpower, and perhaps vitriol, even, that an individual would need to stand so overwhelmingly at the top.

And her adorable 3rd-in-command was headed to such a man.

* * *

-Ω¥Ω-

Souma laughed. It has now been over a week since he had come home, and for some reason he still found himself residing within the Nakiri manor.

He asked Senzaemon if he needed to leave soon, and their conversation went something like this:

"_Leaving already? Come on, young man, do not be so high-strung. Do you find your accommodation lacking?"_

"_No! Not at all, gramps. It's actually better than some 5-star hotels out there. I'm just thinking if I'm imposing on ya, that's all."_

"_Hoh, I see. If that is your concern then there is no need to worry. In fact, we could use your presence to air out the guest house for us. There are so many unused rooms here, so I actually appreciate you staying here and making use of one."_

"_Is that so."_

And that was the end of that conversation. Souma realized that it would be more rude and troublesome if he were to insist on leaving.

Besides, he had access to a huge top-grade industrial kitchen, so it wasn't all bad.

Add on to the fact that his dorm friends were practically staying in the guest house as well with how often they were visiting.

_Is it alright for them to be this lax? _Souma thought.

He quickly shook his head, it wasn't any of his business, so it was best for him to leave it be.

Souma had always been a hardworking individual. His experiences as a child working in a busy diner have ingrained into him the value of tenacity and constant effort. These days, however, Souma had been working ridiculously long hours, to the point that Hisako of all people has been telling him to slow down.

Most of his friends from the Polar Star Dorm have been showing their concern for his health as well. Megumi and Takumi have been particularly aggressive.

He remembered Megumi's visit a few days ago with five different soup dishes and a box of pills after hearing that he passed out. She had always been caring and kind, but more in a soft-spoken and gentle way. Souma did not expect to bluenette to explode in a barrage of worry and distress the moment he went out to intercept her at the guest house's garden.

Souma let out a dry chuckle. While he appreciated their gestures of concern, he thought that he probably couldn't even stop working if he wanted to.

Ever since he'd gone to Master's place his body always felt this itch to work and work and work.

His dad warned him about it. Puck warned him about it. Heck, even his master warned him about it.

The way Souma was going now, it was a one-way ticket to a huge burnout. However, Souma, as unobservant as he is, did not know that.

All he knows is that his body is itching, and that he needs to scratch that itch. He doesn't know that itching that much could rip and tear his skin.

And forcing himself to cook could rip and tear his cooking spirit.

Souma closed his eyes, and once more reflected on the most impactful 48 hours of his life.

* * *

-Ω¥Ω-

_Is this the place? _

Souma said as he walked inside an extremely high-class establishment that oozed an aura of affluence.

The moment Gordon mentioned this place, Souma got packing. He immediately booked a flight to Paris, France. Once he arrived, he quickly got in a taxi, booked another AirBnb (still another 3.9-star), and had the driver take him to "L'atelier de Joel Robuchon," to which the driver gave him an incredulous gasp.

All of those things unfolded in a span of 16 hours. Not even Souma could understand how he did it, but the stars seemed to align in a way as if to indicate that his arrival there was destiny.

So here he was, completely and utterly out of place in an open-air plaza dotted with luxury and designer clothing stores whose retail prices were something beyond Souma's imagination.

After some quick panoramic ogling, Souma could recognize some brands, courtesy of all the gifts the chefs he worked for gave him. He saw a Chanel store and remembered the Chanel pants that Anne-Sophie gave him. He also glanced briefly at a Louis Vuitton boutique, courtesy of the wallet that Bobby gave him before he left.

Souma soon realized that perhaps just window shopping here could cost him money, so he quickly went back on his way.

After asking a few questions here and there in awkward French, which Rosie reluctantly taught him, he finally saw the restaurant he was looking for.

And frankly, it didn't look anything like the home of the greatest restaurateur in the world, but that cadence was lost on the diner boy Souma, who was too busy comparing it to the Yukihira diner's shop front back home.

The shop front had nothing on it except large grayish-white tiles, a plaque displaying the name of the restaurant, and a plaque with three fluffy stars on it, signifying the undeniable quality of the restaurant.

On the lower left side of the shop front was a quaint door made of shiny veneered wood within a slight indention on the wall.

Souma brazenly ignored the "reservations only" sign on the door and waltzed in the way that only he could.

When he entered, he saw a spacious doorway, with all its surfaces covered in the same tiles as the shop front, albeit with a beautiful red carpet on the floor. At the end of the doorway were three doors, and on its sides were soft, velvety couches, most likely for waiting customers. Beautiful paintings hung from the walls on either side, while brilliant chandeliers were hanging on the ceiling.

Whatever "luxury" or "class" was lacking on the shop front had definitely been compensated for in this doorway, as if the austere shop front outside was a deliberate trick to shoo away uncultured, pretentious swine.

Surprisingly, a person was already in the spacious doorway. Standing before him was a tall Frenchman with combed-back black hair with streaks of gray here and there. The man was dressed sharply, wearing a silk vest over a high quality white dress shirt and black slacks, complete with brown leather shoes.

The man had a black tie on with a little golden nameplate on the tie displaying the name "Ducasse" in beautiful lettering.

The man bowed in such a perfect way that he could make a Japanese salaryman blush, and called out to the redhead.

"Are you perhaps Yukihira Souma, sir?" The man said, in perfect Japanese, no less.

Souma was perplexed. While the fact that this man knew him was convenient, it was also incredibly suspicious.

He cautiously replied. "Yes, I am."

The man briefly showed a slight grin as he beckoned Souma to follow him with a motion of his hand.

"Follow me, sir. I have been _notified _of the possibility of your visit."

_Notified? By who? _Souma thought.

The man continued as the duo walked further within the doorway. "My name is Alain Ducasse. You may or may not know of me, but that doesn't matter. I have an inclination that you are here to meet the master of this place, no?"

"You're right." Souma tersely replied. The sheer formality of the man before him was rubbing off on him.

"Then you are in luck, he has quite some free time on him now, you see." Ducasse replied.

As they reached the end of the posh doorway, Ducasse prompted Souma to enter the rightmost of the three doors presented before them.

The elegant man held the door open for Souma, and after he entered, Ducasse followed suit.

The scene inside was even more surreal than the doorway that they had just passed. The construction and interior design of the restaurant seemed to imply that the deeper in you go, the more luxurious it got.

What greeted Souma was a lavishly furnished and decorated undecagon-shaped room. Each corner had within it a marble pillar with streaks of rich black mineralization here and there.

On the wall exactly opposite of the entrance was a small silver plaque with three distinguishable wiry stars. It was the official Michelin star plaque. Souma had seen it before. Apparently the stars at the store front were indicator stars, and are made of cheap stainless steel. These were the real deal, forged from the finest platinum.

What Souma hadn't seen before was the casing. The plaque was housed in a rectangular glass frame that was utterly pristine and free of any blemish or imperfection. The bezel was decorated with a colorful gradient of the finest of jewels: emerald, ruby, sapphire, jade, and other precious gems that Souma couldn't be bothered to name.

The gems were embedded upon a glittering gold base. It was the epitome of glory.

All the other walls were furnished with beautiful paintings of historical events, epics, and even some portraits by world-renowned painters.

In the middle of the room was a pitch-black ebony wood desk with gold and platinum decorations on its corners. Behind the desk was a well-cushioned office chair made of presumably nubuck and nappa leather. Atop it was an old man, likely in his 70's, writing on a journal with a gold-tipped fountain pen.

"Joel, it seems another one has come to see you."

Souma could never forget the smile of the old man as he set aside his pen and uttered the words:

"Another one who came to die?"

* * *

-Ω¥Ω-

"How long has your globetrotting journey been thus far, child?" The master of the place asked. Again, much like Sir Ducasse, he spoke in impeccable Japanese.

"As of right now, 8 months, sir." Souma answered with a no-nonsense tone. This was the first time in his life where he was utterly overwhelmed by the pressure of the presence of the man before him.

"Hoh, is that so?" Joel asked as he tapped the expensive fountain pen on his wrinkly chin.

He narrowed his eyes. "How long was your longest stint, and where?"

Souma answered almost immediately. "It was at Sir Wolfgang Puck's flagship restaurant, sir. I stayed for three weeks."

"Ah, little Puck's place eh? Nice choice." The old man smiled. He stood up from his extravagant office chair and turned his back. This action indicated to Souma that the old man wasn't quite tall, but he knew better than to underestimate him.

That seemingly slight package belied the greatest culinary mind in the world, after all.

"You know, Puck has always been a perfectionist." Joel said as he displayed a narrow grin.

The old man then turned to Ducasse and said, "It's been awfully quiet here, hasn't it? I'd appreciate some Chopin, or perhaps some Bach?"

Ducasse promptly headed to a corner of the room to a very modern control panel, and after fiddling with it for a few moments, beautiful melodies starting permeating throughout the room, presumably through an expensive sound system.

"That's perfect. I reckon that brat Puck is the type to listen to white noise. He has a bad habit of being too high-strung." Joel stated as he slowly yet elegantly tapped his foot to the music.

He turned to Souma, who had been deathly silent the entire time, once more.

"And where did you stint the shortest?"

"It was at Chef Flay's new place, sir." Souma stiffly answered. Even his blockheaded self could tell not to mess up in front of the Master.

"Little Flay, huh. How long did you stay?"

"3 days, sir." And at that, Joel smiled. The tempo of their unwitting musical accompaniment rose. The tension in the room grew. Souma's knees were wobbling, and from the corner of his eye he could see Ducasse straining and lightly sweating.

"You have 48 hours." Joel said. He took a step towards Souma, and by this point the pressure was palpably pressing on Souma's shoulders.

"I assure you, if you use those 48 hours with me efficiently, that is—minimal breaks and no wasted time—then you shall learn more than you did for those three weeks at Puck's for a span of time less than that at Flay's."

Joel reached out his hand. Souma's knees buckled. He fell down, genuflecting unwillingly, and Joel placed his hand on Souma's shoulder.

He smirked.

"Welcome, disciple."

Despite being kneeled on the floor, Souma still grinned as a fire was ignited within his eyes. His cooking spirit has been riled up to heights it has never been tested before. And he liked it.

_This. This is what was missing._ He thought.

* * *

Hey there! Sorry for the extremely long lay-off. What are my excuses this time? None, really.

Well… I guess online classes? And, uh, _writing a stupid smut fic (in another fandom) in the middle of writing the decent one_…

Sorry! And if you haven't noticed, this chapter definitely isn't enough to warrant the couple months of my absence, so what do we do now?

Well, I rewrote the other chapters, because after going through my own training arc, I physically winced upon rereading my work.

There is quite a lot to learn in a few months, isn't there? I can somehow relate to Souma now.

If you are a new reader, or even if you're someone that forgot this existed, I recommend rereading it sometime when I have uploaded the revamped chapters.

Well then, time to disappear for a few months again.

11/2/2020 update: I reuploaded the chapter since apparently it's not displaying on other devices.


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